


Sweet Child of Mine

by EmilliaGryphon



Series: If I Ever Loose My Faith In You [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, gotg
Genre: Action, Adventures, Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Team as Family, parenting done right, parenting done wrong, past truama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-07 00:19:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11612004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilliaGryphon/pseuds/EmilliaGryphon
Summary: When Groot regrew, Rocket was the happiest most thankful cybernetically enhanced creature in the whole damn galaxy. He didn’t deserve his best friend back, but here he was. But raising his best friend from a twig to a tree is much harder than the guardians anticipated. Rocket doesn't even know how much of the "old" Groot is still there.  As Peter, Drax, Gamora and Rocket try to raise Baby Groot, they soon realize that they each have their own demons that they must come to terms with if they are going to do this right. All while battling, stealing and getting into mischief of course.Contains spoilers for Guardians 1





	1. Chapter 1

_“_ _I’d_ _hate to look into those eyes, and see an ounce of pain…as a child I'd hide and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by._

 _Oh, oh, oh. Sweet child o' mine._ _Oh, oh, oh sweet love of mine.”_

 ---

"We. Are.Groot." The words repeated themselves like waves, rolling over and over in Rocket's soul.

“Well fine,” Peter Quill growled, breaking Rocket from his thoughts, “since you don’t know when your _best friend’s_ birthday is, I am picking it and I say that Groot’s birthday is tomorrow!” Rocket rolled his eyes and folded his arms, leaning back against the iron wall of the Milano’s common area. 

“Once again you make no sense human,” across the table Drax frowned. “Groot is right here, how can he be born tomorrow?”  It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes as he explained.

“On Terra we celebrate birthdays, like the day that you were born. My birthday is June 4th so on every June 4th I would celebrate.” The celebrations Peter referred to of course were of him whispering “happy birthday” to himself in his bunk, or stow away ship, or whatever dark corner Yondu had him crammed in at that particular moment over the years of his childhood.

 “Quill we don’t know what days we were born.” Gamora put in.

“Yeah but remember a few months back when I asked you all about it and you told me, ‘it was warm out?’ I tried to guess and had Rocket do the calculations to try to figure out how we could have a terran calendar for holidays and stuff?” None of them looked like they remembered.

“Oh yeah,” Rocket mused, “I was supposed to do that wasn’t I?” He spit on the ground and shook his head.

 “Dammnit dude! We probably already missed Easter and I really wanted a chocolate bunny!” 

“What’s Easter?” Drax asked. Peter brushed it off, 

“Doesn’t matter. Look, I am declaring Groot’s birthday tomorrow. We’ll stop on Dravia tonight, that will give us all time to look for presents and we’ll have a party.”

“It should have been yesterday,” Gamora started, “he opened his eyes yesterday.” Peter nodded, “fine, a belated birthday then. Rocket you really need to do the calculations for my calendar so we can find out what day it was yesterday. Holidays and birthdays are special, it gives us a chance to do some good ol’ fashioned team bonding.”

 Rocket only shrugged, this was exactly the sort of the forced team bonding “celebrations,” he hated. _How? How could they be talking about presents and sweets for Groot when he just opened his eyes the other day? When he had just been blown to pieces a few days before that?_ The image of it haunted Rocket every time he closed his eyes. Those big brown, soulful eyes looking at him. Looking into him, before everything was consumed by white light and Rocket felt his best friend shatter all around him. Groot had always been there. He’d been a towering presence, always at Rocket’s back whenever they were in a pinch.  Rocket stood on his shoulders, he curled up with him to sleep, Groot was always there and large and looming. But now, now he was just so tiny. So…helpless. But he was here, and Rocket was over joyed, so why was that hole inside him still so deep and dark and full of longing, full of grief? _But Groot was back now, wasn’t he? It shouldn’t matter. He was alive._ For all their time together He filled that hole with alcohol, with mundane tinkering on every metal surface of the Milano he could find.

How did Star-Dork expect him to try and overlay his terran calendar to the Xandarian one when he could barely keep track of the days and nights? When he wasn’t working on reprogramming, upgrading, reinstalling or building, he drank until he either passed out, threw up or fell into a fitful sleep plagued by nightmares. When he wasn’t doing any of those things, he laboriously, meticulously hovered and watched over Groot.

“Alright troops, meeting over, you’re all dismissed.” Drax nodded and plodded down the Milano’s main corridor down to his quarters. Gamora too gave a small smile and made her way to the bay. Rocket moved to pluck Groot up from the table, he slept soundly upright, little arms gently swaying every now and then.

 “Rocket wait, could I talk to you for a sec,” _flaark, what is it now?_ Rocket cursed and set Groot down again.

 “What do you want Star-Dork?” Peter smirked in the carefree way that made the cybernetic mammal want to scratch his face off.

“How much longer till we reach Dravia?”

“About three hours by humie time,” he answered shortly, his eyes never leaving Groot asleep in his pot.

“Listen Rocket…” Rocket knew that tone of voice. It was the lets-talk-about-feelings voice. “Are you okay, it’s been a rough couple of days for all of us…let alone you.” Rocket only glared, 

“I’m fine Star-Dork! Just peachy! Save your sentimental crap for someone who needs it cause I sure as flark don’t!” It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes, he put up his hands, 

“Alright dude, whatever you say. I’m just sayin’ having your best friend get blown up and…”

"I said I’m fine Star-munch!” He snarled, tail flicking in disgust. Making his way to the cock-pit Rocket held Groot’s pot gently in his arms and carefully placed it on his lap, straining with the seat-belts to secure over the both of them. Two hours later he made the announcement to the ship:

“Hold on to your sorry asses, Dravia comin’ up in one leap.” Without waiting, he pushed the ship forward, thrusting through the galaxy at hyper speed, unconsciously pulling Groot’s pot closer to him as the hurdled forward.

“Rocket!!!” Gamora’s clenched-teeth disapproval echoed as they tumbled closer to Dravia’s atmosphere, eventually settling out and slowing down. Rocket’s red-brown eyes immediately making sure Groot was still in his place. The little Flora Colossus only continued to snooze and the enhanced raccoon spared a relieved breath.

“You reckless animal, you could have killed us all if we had not held on in time!” Drax accused, getting to his feet.

“Pshh, wusses.” Rocket shrugged and turned his attention forward. From the Milano’s large windows he could see Dravia come into sight, an orange film across an otherwise purple atmosphere. A planet of sand and fire and dust, as well a surprisingly bustling trade center for this quadrant of the galaxy.

“Who’s going to stay here with Groot?” Peer asked as the large ramp of Milano came down, landing with a soft thud on the sand. There were very little regulations for landing and launching in Dravia’s vast covered markets. Anywhere a ship could land was usually made into an in-prompt to landing dock. Gamora shook her head when Peter put the question to them and Rocket himself, normally making it a priority to stay within eye-site of the plant at all times, found himself needing a break. He needed ammo and supplies, he needed to find the diviest bar this side of the quadrant and drink himself under the table.

“I will stay with our small plant friend,” Drax said at last to which Quill smiled in appreciation.

“Sounds good, I’ll come back and relieve you in a bit that way you can get a chance to look around. Keep an eye out for gifts for Groot’s birthday!” Rocket dismissively waved his hand, walking down the ramp with his Collanian rifle at his side and two more revolvers at his hips.  “…and guys?” He and Gamora turned, “try not to kill anyone this time. We’ll meet back here at dusk, sound good?” Rocket nodded without a sound and quickly made himself scarce in the labyrinthine markets. As always when he reached a new destination, he kept one eye out for anything resembling himself. Any augmented mammals, though he didn’t know what a mammal was. He did it subconsciously, hardly aware of it anymore. What he was keenly aware of however were the stares from humies and other aliens alike. One move for his guns however and they quickly turned the other way. But even that look of dread in their eyes no longer made his heart thrum with superiority like it used to.

 Sharp smells of spices drifted through his nose, the sounds of bells and shop keeps hocking their wares sounded in his ears. Rocket drifted in and out of shops, taking whatever he needed _. Too easy,_ he thought taking a roll of 19 caliber Torlac ammunition and slipping it into his left leg pocket. He exited the shop and turned down another street, easily dodging the legs of those who towered over him.

  _Gotta get a damn gift for Groot…_ he thought, pushing back the anxious thoughts of the little plant back on the ship. But what would he want? Rocket looked passed the different stalls as he walked. Small ornaments to hang from his branches and look at, preferably yellow or green, bottled soil from the forests of Havmouth, Flavian water, these things bought, not stolen. The honest way, that was half the present. Rocket knew that much from when they celebrated the day the two of them broke out of that laboratory asylum on Halfworld but that was what the old Groot liked. What about this tiny twig Groot? _How much of him is actually there?_ Rocket contemplated not for the first time. It was too early to tell however, he reassured himself to stop from worrying about it. _Maybe a new pot? I could get a yellow and green one, see if he still has his favorite colors. Yeah that could—_

“Hey vermin watch where your going!” A hard boot hit him roughly in the chest and Rocket found himself pushed to the side. “Damn rodent,” the large horned alien cursed and continued rushing along. 

“Hey! Who you callin’ rodent mister?!” Rocket bristled, reaching for his rifle. By the time he had it out the creature was lost in the crowed and those around him hardly glanced at the small mammal beneath them. He cursed, putting it away and shook his head. Another piece of kindling on the pyre of his rage. Like always, he fumed, storming off down another alley. Spying a plant shop he looked around, plant life of all kinds and all shades grew from various pots. Rocket ducked under a large pink colored leaf just as the shop woman glanced over her shoulder. He reemerged, looking at a stack of smallish shaped pots, each of them brightly colored. He shook his head,

 _Cheap plastic, no. Groot deserves better than that. Groot deserves better. He deserved better._ Rocket left without a purchase. The dark clouds of hatred rising in him. “I called him an idiot,” he repeated the mantra over to himself. Rocket called him an idiot, he yelled at him whenever he didn’t go with the plan, when he misunderstood directions, Rocket snarled and hissed at him whenever Groot tried to touch him, give him a pat of affection. Groot deserved so much better than the asshole partner Rocket had been. The worst had been when they were still on Halfworld, Rocket’s mind fried from his latest “modification.” He lay in his cell, shaking and delirious when the blurry image of Groot’s hand reached through the bars. In them was a small round crown of flowers. All shades of pink interspersed with leaves, Rocket had growled even as Groot reached out to him farther.

“I am Groot!”  Rocket had stood, strode across the space between them and snatched the floral crown. He tore it to pieces until all that was left were slivers of pink and green and brown.

The wide-eyed look of shock and hurt lacerated Rocket’s heart even now as he walked through the shops. _He was hurt too, all carved up and burnt. How long did it take him to grow those flowers?_

Rocket shook his head. Something caught his eye, a green and yellow windmill that he had seen humie kids playing with. _Might give him something to play with in that pot of his._ Rocket thought, approaching the stand with practiced swagger. 

“Get outta here, no varmint in my shop!” The man looked down at him as he approached. Rocket’s ears flicked back the words cutting him.

“I jus’ wanna buy one of those windmill things and I’ll be going.” The shopkeep narrowed his single eye, scrutinizing the enhanced raccoon not dissimilar as to those scientists on Halfworld. Rocket should have been used to it by now, but still that look made him want to sink into the floor and never come back. 

“There twelve units. Double for rodents.” 

“You this much of an asshole to everyone or am I lucky?” Rocket snapped back. The alien creature’s frowned deepened.

“Twenty four units.” Rocket huffed, that was enough for two drinks! Three if he got that shitty watered down crap. _For Groot._  He picked up one of the windmills and threw the units down on the counter, walking away before the one-eyed alien could make another smart remark. It was almost dusk, and Rocket made just enough time to swing back to the plant shop and get one of those pots. _He’s going to need a bigger one eventually anyway,_ he thought to himself heading back to the ship. The Milano was intact; no missing pieces, no armies attacking. Rocket strode inside, up the cargo bay to the main bridge, up to the main deck, down the hall around the corner and halted. Music played from the common area, Peter twisted and danced, in his small pot Baby Groot flailed his hands and swayed along, mouth open in a large smile. 

“Ooo child things are gonna get easier, Ooo child things are gonna get brighter!” 

Rocket watched them dance, watched Groot move as much as he could and wave his arms around. Frozen with indignation and bittersweet resolve for several minutes, he swallowed and made his way back down the hall, through the narrow corridors and down another flight of steps to the engine room. Amid the main fuse, engine, controls for gravity, oxygen and other essentials Rocket kicked through his own weapons, ammunition, armor, and other belongings. Pushing aside a half-finished blaster resting on a six pack of Yagger Lager, he reached under the bulkhead into one of the many nooks and crannies of the engine room, against the far wall, up and to the left, sliding on his belly to get his arm up there and pulled down a small tin box.

“I’ll do better,” he breathed staring at the two other sticks he had saved from the explosion. He didn’t dare not touch them. “This time I’ll do better, I promise.”  

Even as he said the words doubt squirmed in his stomach. “I’ll do it right this time.” His voice cracked and he closed the box, glancing at the small torn bits of pink flower petals as he did so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Groot has a re-birthday party. Everyone has fun except Rocket. The Guardians get a job.

“Those are the finest knives I could find,” Drax proudly declared the next day. “It is never too young to start them early. Why I had three throwing stars ready for Kameria on the day she was born.”  Peter’s perturbed face did nothing to brighten Rocket’s face. Groot reached out to touch one of the gleaming blades in glee, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

 _He’s not a child, he’s still Groot,_ Rocket repeated to himself. Gamora deftly intercepted the small plant, who then began to cry. A shrill thin sound that made Rocket’s hair stand on edge.

“Hey, hey no worries Groot! I have something for you too!” Quill quickly produced a small rectangle sized package, wrapped crudely with duct tape.

“Let me guess,” Rocket drawled from his place across the table, “it’s a cassette.”

“No!”  Peter attempted to conceal his hurt at the revealed gift before it could be opened. “It’s a…a..” Groot tore into the thing with his small hands, uncovering the tape. Gamora stifled a smile. “Well it’s a really cool tape! I made it myself! Do you know how hard it is to make a mix tape all the way out here?”   

“Is it as hard as having to see your dumb face in the mirror every day?” Rocket quipped lamely. Peter ignored him. The enhanced mammal folded his arms again, watching his best friend promptly insert the corner of the tape into his mouth. _He’s…he’s not an infant he’s just…figuring things out all over again. He’s still the same Groot._ But no matter how many times Rocket told himself that, Baby Groot continued to prove him wrong. He cried on and off all last night, he threw up liquid if he was watered too much, and he tried to eat everything within reach of his tiny arms.

“My turn,” Gamora piped, uncommonly happy. From her back she revealed a heat lamp. “It has a setting for nighttime as well, its captured moonlight.”  Rocket turned to spit, _suck up._ He watched as she flicked it on and Groot happily tried to reach for it over his head, beaming. Quill, Gamora and Drax all laughed whilst Rocket tried his best to crack a grin. Groot was happy, so he should be happy. He said he would do better.

 “Where’s your present Rocket?” Quill asked the question he’d been dreading. “Didn’t you get him something?”

“Of course I got him something Star-Nerd!” Rocket casually reached under the table and flung the pot and the windmill onto the table. Groot gazed at them both with interest and tried to bend down to pick up the toy windmill. Rocket took it, sticking it in the small pot beside him and gave it a flick. The colors whirled together as it spun and Baby Groot watched, wide-eyed, mouth agape. Inwardly Rocket was glad he at least liked it.

“Rocket, the small tree clearly likes your gift best of all.” Peter nodded,

“Well of course he does! Trash Dad knows what his son likes best!”

“HE’S NOT MY SON!” Rocket exploded before he could stop himself, jumping down from his seat. Their stares pierced him but he didn’t feel it through the rage, he never did until it was too late. “He ain’t my son and he ain’t your baby! This is ridiculous I don’t know why I bought into this.” Waving them off he started out of the room.

“Rocket c’mon man, I take it back,” Quill’s futile attempts did nothing. “We’re just having a little fun! Groot is back! He’s here! We’re celebrating his re-birth day! Would it kill you to not be a complete dick for once?”

Rocket’s misbegotten fury stormed inside him, only to be furthered by Groot’s mewling. “He ain’t an infant! He’s still Groot!” The enhanced raccoon repeated again, turning around. It was all he could do to keep his eyes from the tiny plant.

“Rocket,” somehow Gamora’s level voice calmed his fire just a tad, “Peter is right this is his re-birth day. Regardless of whether you think he’s an infant or not, he’s here and we are celebrating him. He is your best friend and you got him a great present. Let’s all just be happy alright, we’ve all gone through a lot lately.” Rocket watched her dark eyes, a shimmer of silent pleading in them that she would never admit to. He sighed, _for Groot._

“Fine.” Walking back over to the table, he spun the little windmill once more and glanced at the pot still a few inches away. Apparently Groot no longer took to the bright colors of yellow and green. Rocket shook his head dismissing the disappointment.

"I got caaaake!” Peter’s sing-song voice drifted as he made his way to the Milano’s small kitchen. Returning with a brown colored, sweet smelling cake, and a smaller cake made of what looked like wet sand and sticks, Peter set the two things down in front of them on the table. “He beamed, “that little one I made for him since I don’t know if he can eat people food.”

“I didn’t know you could cook Gams,” Rocket said by way of forcing himself into a lighter mood.

“I don’t,” she clarified.

“I do.” Drax’s deep voice stated unabashed. “I quite enjoy the culinary arts. This is my own recipe.”

“I guess Hovat wore the pants in your relationship then eh?” Rocket asked, waiting for the wrath to come. Drax’s brows knitted,

“Sometimes she wore pants yes. But not all of the time and I too wear pants. Almost always except for when I am cleaning myself or making love or—“

“It smells great Drax! Let’s dig in shall we?” Rocket forced himself to eat a piece of what was rather delectable cake, and watched as Groot happily played with his own sand and stick cake, eventually falling asleep in his pot.

“Well it’s been fun, but it’s late.” Gamora said, throwing her beer bottle in the garbage. They had been up for hours, though it was mostly Quill, Gamora and Drax talking and laughing. Rocket contented himself to keep quiet while he sipped on cheap booze, lying that he had none of his own to share.

“Goodnight Gamora,” Peter watched her go as Rocket snickered. “What?!”

“It’s never going to happen dude.” Peter rolled his eyes, playfully reaching to pet the mammal between his ears. He evaded, hissing and stood up. 

“I’m hitting the hay too, goodnight.” He made his way back to the engine room. One of the alternator belts was working a little too slowly for Rocket’s liking and he’d been spending the past few days working on it. He told himself Groot was fine on his own. _None of them get it. He’s still Groot and I’ll do better being his friend…so what he didn’t love the green and yellow pot…he was distracted it don’t mean nothing._ He worked on the alternator feverishly. _A and B wires connect into sockets 1 and 2, bypass the main port….he’s still Groot just needs to regrow. He’ll regrow in no time stop being so selfish. Gotta do something about these outlets,it needs it’s own back up generator…if it took a day to regrow his limbs then it should still only take a week for him to get back to full size….no, new generator means I’d have to rewire…_ so his mind continued on, between agonizing over Groot and agonizing over the work he was making for himself. A squeaky wail broke his thoughts, he turned, stomach twisting at the sound of Groot’s distress. _Go get him!_ Everything within him screamed. 

“Do not be upset small tree, I am here.”  Rocket turned back to his work forcing himself to settle as Groot’s small cries drifted off. _Go check on him, he is tired and what does Drax know?_ His mind whirled with indecision and contradiction. But he turned back to his work, cursing as an electric shock from the wires burnt his hand. Untellable hours later, somewhere between emotional and mental exhaustion Rocket drifted off face down on the belt, one hand holding a wrench, the other containing a tangled ball of wires. The whoosh of the engine still sounded in his ears, he rocked with the gentle swell and pitch o the ship, the dark behind his eyes comforting like the dark of long ago he could barely remember, everything sites and sounds and scents. 

_“W…what’s happening?” Rocket asked, trying to swipe at the debris in the air around his eyes. The quiet scent of darkness morphed into metallic burning._

_“The Dark Aster, it’s going to blow!” Peter screamed through the smoke. Shit! Rocket’s eyes caught on the familiar yellow spores that Groot produced._

_“Groot! C’mon!” He scurried around to the wreck of his Nova ship, hastily configuring the wires, it just needs enough thrust to get out of this shitty wreck and can fall back to Xandar. Gamora?! Drax?! They too ran through the smoke, piling into the ship._

_“I am Groot?!” The flora colossus knelt down reaching out for Rocket._

_“No, there’s no more room, I’ll be fine just squeeze in!” Groot made to protest but Rocket shoved him in. Through the windshield he could see Groot, Peter, Drax and Gamora starring at him._

_“We are Groot,”_

_“I know….”Rocket gazed up at him, he forced a smile and slammed the circular door shut._

_“Rocket!” a large wooden hand pressed up against the glass, spores filling the ship. Rocket steadied himself as the Dark Aster continued to fall. He punched the last panel back into place and pressed the emergency exterior power. Choking on the smoke he watched as the ship crawled it’s way to where the hole in the Dark Aster bellowed. The ship reached the edge, Rocket watched. All the eyes of the Guardians were on him but he only saw Groot’s. fire and air tor at his fur, he watched the ship fly out of site and saw the rush of clouds. It should’ve been me, he thought as the ground rushed up to end him. He grinned sardonically and then it ended._

_Groot’s tiny cry called him from the blackness._

_“Groot?” Rocket wandered in the dark, hands reaching gingerly for whatever was around him. “Groot? Groot buddy?” A green glow guided him to where Groot cried. Rocket’s heart froze. Ronnan loomed over his best friend._

_  
"You think it’s all better now that he is regrown?” The gravelly voice of the accuser ground his bones._

_“You are a pathetic animal. Groot is gone. This one is here, but he is new and knows nothing of you. Your Groot is dead by your own recklessness. Filth, vermin, you really thought you’d deserve a second chance?”  Reflexively Rocket reached for his gun but nothing was there. He lunged forward but looked down. His legs did not budge. Ronann reached a hand out, gripping Groot’s tiny trunk, the tree shrieked and Rocket fought to move._

_“Don’t! Don’t tear him apart!” Hot anguish wracked him as the accuser jerked Groot roughly upward in a single moment, tiny primary and secondary roots trembling and exposed. He tried to look away as the accuser moved his other hand and in snapped Groot in half. Rocket fell. He fell onto a table and tried to move, through a haze he could see cuffs strapping him down._

_“Subject 89P13 is prepped doctor,” No! Where’s Groot?! I’ll flarking blow you all to hell!_

To the observer, Rocket thrashed in his sleep, whimpering and clawing, tail whipping back and fourth as he relived the horrors of his unmaking and remaking.

_Stabbing through his back while the needle went in, he tried to concentrate, to get out.  
_

_“No, no no! Please! Don’t tear me apart again!” The tall doctor clad in white turned, eyes penetrating Rocket’s newly made, already corrupted soul. “No! Please!” He arched his back as the doctor reached up one large, wooden hand. Rocket’s eyes widened with the impossibility._

_“No…” he whined, feeling the hot tears press. “No, don’t do this…” the doctor pulled the mask down._

_“I am Groot.” Rocket screamed as he electrocuted him and felt the needle in his friend’s hand slip between ribs._

Out of the numerous nightmares Rocket had had in his short lifetime only a handful had been truly terrible but none, as bad as they were, featured Groot as one of those strange people in the strange masks. Out of the handful of more intense nightmares Groot had been there for most of them. But he was not coming this time. No one did. Rocket beseeched, in the small part of his mind that knew it was a dream, he pleaded for someone to come. Groot would rub his back gently knowing exactly how to avoid the metal cybernetics. If that didn’t work he would wind his vines around Rocket and hold him close to his chest, humming and stroking his fur. The nightmare eventually faded into dark throbbing pain. No images, no needles, no putrid smells. Just black aching pain from his cybernetics. Rocket trembled, sweat, tried to wake himself and failed. No one came. Groot did not come. Alone. He’d always been alone, the only thing in the universe but in the bottom of the well of his nightmares Rocket was more alone now than he ever had been. 

“It should have been me, it should have been me!” _At least I would’ve done one good thing with this miserable existence. It flarking should’ve been me!_ Rocket had no devotion to any higher-power. His existence was forged by silicone, steal and science and that was what shaped him. Rocket trembled, trying to wrap his arms and tail around himself in the cold engine room.

“Rocket there you are! We thought you were sleeping but none of us wanted to wake you!” Peter said the next morning. Ever since he bit Gamora’s hand for trying to wake him from a hungover slumber the rest of his team dreaded waking him. “Did you even sleep last night you look terrible.”

“You look like a corpse left out in the sun for three days.” Peter only laughed.

“Whatever man, we just got a call from the Collector. We got a job to do.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill has a plan. It goes terribly wrong. 
> 
> Warning for swearing

“He’s not even out of his pot yet Peter, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“THANK YOU,” Rocket exclaimed. Star-Munch just shook his head, his hands gripping his control console knuckle white. He heaved a breath before repeating,

“He’ll be fine! That’s why Rocket’s gonna rig something up. You can do that can’t you?”

“Yah I can do it Star-Dork,” he glared out of the corner of his eye from his co-pilot seat. “But I’m not gonna because as Gams said, he’s not coming. It’s not safe.”

“Pppshh, when did you ever care about safety?”

  _Since I crashed that ship into the Dark Aster…_

“He ain’t comin, he hasn’t even said his first words yet!”  Quill spared a glance at him, 

“Hate to spoil the surprise but I’m pretty sure his first words are gonna start with ‘I’ and end with ‘am Groot.’” Rocket jerked his steering wheel on his console to the left and swallowed his stomach as the ship tilted sharply. 

“Rodent! Cease this petulant behavior!”

“Don’t call me rodent!”

“All of you stop it!” Gamora screamed, steadying herself as the ship recovered. “Drax don’t call Rocket a rodent. Peter the answer is no. Groot is far too tiny for this job. He hasn’t been on a job since…” Rocket heard her falter and turned over his shoulder to study her. The green woman’s eyes briefly looked to the small plant sleeping in it’s pot, and then to Rocket. Almost apologetically. “He hasn’t been on a job since Xandar and this is not the one to take him on.”

“I must agree with the green whore,” Drax input. “Even on my homeworld children do not go into battle until they can at least speak.” _Groot isn’t a child you kurtukan idiot._

“Yah know I’m surprised Ronan was the one who killed your kid,” Rocket mused.

“What is that supposed to mean? He did kill her. Must I repeat that?" 

“He’s being a smart ass Drax don’t mind him.” Quill reassured. A tense silence filled the ship as it coasted closer to Trator. Both Rocket and Peter opened their mouths in a single breath,

“He’s not coming that’s final!”

“He is coming we need him!” Rocket smoldered, jerking his wheel to the left once more. The Milano tried to tilt, then spluttered, creaked and continued without turning.

“Yah know that’s gonna kill the wing controls,” the raccoon like creature grumbled.

“Rocket we’ll be careful, I promise! You’ll rig up something so we can pull him out if we need but you heard the orders and this thing is located in an old corez plant. Groot’s tiny, can fit in places even you can’t. Good for thieving.” As soon as the words were out his mouth Quill went wide eyed, swallowed with difficulty and resumed looking out the front of the cockpit. “You said yourself he’s not a baby, didn’t you? Besides he’s been on this ship for days I bet he’s just itching to get out and we’ll be right by him every step of the way.” Hitting the one person pilot button Rocket hopped out of his seat, walking over to where Groot now blinked awake.

 _Say something…anything…_ Rocket silently pleaded, looking at him as he stretched. Groot only grinned and wiped his eyes.

“You want to come with us buddy?” Peter’s over enthusiastic baby-talk made Rocket want to blow him out the air lock. Groot nodded vigorously, waving his arms, Peter leaned over Rocket and plucked him up in his pot spinning the windmill to the flora colossus’s delight.

“See? He wants to come!” He boasted, spinning Groot around. Rocket shook his head,

“Fiiine.” Rocket caved, watching Groot smile like an idiot. _It’s the least I can do I guess._ The anxiety knotted in his stomach at the thought of the little tree being lowered down onto the factory floor. _Why the hell is Tratorian alkaline so valuable anyway?_ The Collector didn’t include that in his message. But he did include the price he’d pay. 75,000 units. Still mulling in doubt he left the pilot deck.  Three sleep deprived nights and no more liquor on board Rocket got to work on making Groot his own portable rigging that could easily be supported and navigated by someone else. _He’ll be fine, he wants to do this and we’ll all be with him in case anything happens._ He told himself over and over as he worked, but that sick feeling of shame and mourning still stirred in his moist eyes.

On the flight deck, back in his pilot’s chair Peter navigated the Milano closer to Trator. Drax sat beside him, Groot in his pot in his arms. The tiny flora colossus could barely do anything really besides cry, sway this way and that, and stare up at you with those unending orbs. _Good for thieving,_ Yondu had said of Peter on more than one occasion. Well Yondu probably wanted him dead now after he swapped the Infinity Stone and gave it to the Nova Corps. Peter told himself he didn’t regret the decision, it was clearly the right thing to do. One look at tiny Groot, now beginning to doze off however, made Peter question whether stopping Ronnan and the infinity stone was worth it after all. The sinking feeling in his gut didn’t go away as he spotted the black and orange dotted planet come into view.

“That’s it?” Gamora leaned over him.

“That’s it. Now this Tratorian alkaline, do you know why he needs it?” Gamora rolled her eyes,

 “When does the collector tell us anything useful. It’s probably for his containment chambers for some of his larger specimens. Tratorian alkaline is nearly indestructible. That’s my guess anyways.” Quill nodded watching as she too looked at Groot.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to him.”

 “He’s gonna be fine. We’ll make sure he goes in and out real fast. There’s no other way. All we got to do is lower him down, he gets the alkaline and we get out. Piece of cake.”

 “Not him! Rocket!” 

“What about Rocket?” Peter demanded. The rodent had been far more insufferable as of late. His verbal jabs sharper, he’s moods moodier. Last night Quill found him tearing out parts of the Milano’s wiring in the main corridor just to see what it looked like.

“Do you have any idea how frightened he must be?” Gamora inquired. “He just lost Groot days ago,”

“Yeah but he’s back,” Peter waved to the small plant. Her lips drew back to a thin line.

 “It’s not the same Peter. You know it, I know it and Rocket definitely knows it.”

“It’ll be good for him Gams!” He argued defensively. “Rocket said himself that Groot was just small, that’s all. He’s not dumb.” Her hands gripping the back of his chair released slowly. 

“If anything happens, Rocket won’t be the only one you need to worry about.”

“C’mon Gamora! I’m just trying to…”

“You’re just trying not to feel guilty yourself. Despite what Rocket says Groot is infantile, at least for now. I know you never knew your father but Yondu raised you and now you have to help raise Groot. You owe him that for his sacrifice. You have a responsibility to him and putting him in danger like this…” That was all he could listen to. Slamming on the accelerator he laughed at the startled yells from Drax who instantly caught Groot’s pot, and Gamora who went flying backward.

“Here we are. Trator. Now if anyone else wants to yell at me for trying to help you can shut your mouth’s cause we got a job to do and Groot’s going to help just like he always does! He’s a baby but he’s all our baby and he’s gonna be fine.”

“He ain’t a baby!” Came Rocket’s roar from the depths of the Milano. Peter laughed it off. _He just needs another job to distract him it’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine. We’ll all be fine._

Several stressful hours later the gang, complete with Groot staring wide-eyed in his pot, crouched in the dank, steaming bowels of the Tratorian Alkaline factors. The ventilation system was hot, stinking with grime and stuffy from lack of use.

“Got his rig on tight?” Peter asked through his mask. He did not need to see the enhanced raccoon’s face to see he was clearly pissed.

“Of course I got it right Star-Butt.” He finished securing the last of the straps to the plant’s pot.

“Good. Then let’s go.” Drax and Gamora each nodded, scrambling to their own positions down the shadowy vents. Peter put his hand to his mouth, and breathed slowly, trying to forget the reeking smell. 

“Alright Groot, now be careful. All you got to do is put some of that liquid into this container. Try to fill it to the top. But be careful, it’s highly flammable.” Rocket’s fist clenched as Peter went through the instructions twice more. Baby Groot watched with wide eyes, nodding and taking the jar in his hands, turning it this way and that.

“See? He’ll be fine! That’s the Groot we know and love!” Peter proudly hoisted the pot with it’s rigging upward and leaned above the opened vent. He could feel Yondu’s own gaze upon his back, amused and laughing as they prepped the small, inexperienced child for a risky mission.

“I know he ain’t a baby Quill but….”

“Have some faith ranger rick.” The raccoon like creature reached for his gun but Peter already precariously began lowering Groot down over the factory floor. Refusing to watch, Rocket busied himself working on the containment chamber he had created for the jar of the alkaline. Over three inches thick of inflammable material with four separate locks and a failsafe.

“BAM!” Rocket’s guns were in his hands in a moment, looking down on to the factory floor in dread.

“What the flark was that?!” Groot was safe in his pot though it now swung from side to side with more sway then the plant preferred.

“Just one of the goons, must’ve heard Drax and Gamora kill the others and came back here.”  Rocket’s ear’s perked at the small whine from below.

“Your almost there buddy!” The tiny tree frowned, looking up at them with large, fearful eyes.

“He doesn’t like it Quill.”  Rocket observed, shooting three more men as they came in and saw Groot.

“He’ll be fine, not much longer!” Peter gently lowered Groot down father despite the plant’s protests. His arms trying to pull himself back up on the pulling rig.

“How many more of these guys are going to come?!” Rocket yelled, gripping one edge of the opening as he leaned over and shot at four more men emerging from the left door. 

“Drax and Gamora are handling it!”

“They’re doing a great job!”  He cursed and let out at frustrated cry shooting another few factory workers. Groot swayed farther as he was lowered down to the vats of dark golden liquid. He cried again, shrill and loud _like an infant…_ Rocket’s mind thought before he could correct himself. 

“Quill let him up!” Peter only looked down and smiled, lowering Groot even more until he was just above the large pool. 

“You’re almost there Groot! You can do this! Now just fill that jar with the alkaline and we’ll lift you right back up.” Groot’s frightened cry answered, from their height they could see him look at the alkaline and then back up at them. 

“Quill…” Rocket warned. Groot screamed, small globs of light sappy tears manifested at the corner of his eyes and ran down his wooden face. _No amount of units is worth that._ Rocket knew that much. His tail flicked and he reached out for the pulley. “Give it up Star-bitch, we’re done.” Peter yanked the pulley away as Rocket reached for it. 

“He can do this! Don’t you want to see him do it?”  Peter’s own mind spun. Groot’s pleading cries filled his ears with memories of his own. How many times had he been the one in that position? Terrified while guns blasted all around him and large alien creatures reached for him. Their weapons inches from his own face he, the smallest person in the galaxy cowered while Yondu and the ravagers fought around him. He got through it, was stronger and better at what he did because if it. Groot would be too. He dodged the angry mammal once more and shot a man who had reached for Groot.

“Flark it Quill let him up! He’s gonna get hurt!”

“We’re almost there daddy trash panda! Groot c’mon bud just fill that container and…” stinging pain grazed his hand as Rocket’s claws reached for the rigging.

“Don’t call me his daddy!”

“Dude just shoot already and let me handle this!” Peter twisted, flattening to his stomach in the narrow vent, putting himself between Rocket and the wire he had fused to the wall to control the pulley. Groot shrieked, violently jerking to the side when Peter had moved.

 "You’re not handling anything!” Rocket aimed his gun at Quill’s leg ready to shoot it.

“Rocket he’s got this! He just…SHIT!” Over the raccoon’s shoulder, down on the factory floor watched as a yellow and purple spotted alien dove for Groot. He took aim, going under Rocket’s own belly and frantically shot. He heard the shout of the monster but it was the flames he saw. Groot let out a shout to split glass and Peter grabbed Rocket, rolling to shield him as the flames and smoke rose upward covering them in black, choking smoke.

“Groot!!” Fangs and claws pierced at him before Rocket wriggled free, leaping down into the fray. Quill watched, stomach in his throat. _What have I done? Even Yondu never fucked up this bad._

Rocket could smell his charred fur, could taste the flakes of ash and carbonated petrified…wood. _No. no, no, no, NO!!_

“Groot! Groot buddy?!” Waving his hand frantically through the smoke his heart lifted just a tad. In his pot Groot hung low and drooping, one arm completely burnt away. Tattered blackened wood on his shoulder smoked. Curling around the pot Rocket looked him over, awkwardly hanging on with one hand to the rigging. “There you go, anything else hurt?” Groot only look and him and though he still had not spoken, Rocket understood him. The shame rose within, a title wave and the same tears that had run down his face the day Groot sacrificed himself now threatened to make another appearance. 

“I’m going to kill him.” He whispered aloud, gently taking the container from Groot and hoping down to fill it with the alkaline, now bubbling, it’s noxious fumes stinging his nose. Rocket climbed back up, around the potted plant, quickly scanning for any other signs of injury. The right side of Groots thin trunk was singed but not gone. The tiny plant cried, tears of sap running down into Rocket’s own burned fur. As they were lowered back up Rocket’s own anguish burned his insides. _It should have been me. If it were, larger Groot could do this job no problem. I said I’d do better…_ he also said that after every drunken debauchery.

“Is he….?” Quill’s shaking voice barely registered with Rocket as he untangled Groot from the pulley and held him in his hands, unconsciously close to his chest.

“Don’t touch him!” He snarled, hackles up and fur on edge. 

“I’m sor…”

“Shut the flark up! Star-c*nt!” All the dark, sickening echelons of Rocket’s own heart, if he had one, creeped out. No alcohol, no sarcasm to keep them at bay, to keep them tame. This was different. Since Groot had died, and died he had, no matter how Peter, Gamora or Drax tried to spin it with words like “resurrection,” Rocket had kept to himself mostly. He never liked emotions, and the one’s he cycled through after that fateful day were too many to handle. He didn’t ask to get made. He didn’t ask for sentience either. With sentience came feeling, came vulnerability, hurt and grief. He didn’t ask for any of it. 

“What happened?” Gamora’s demand sounded through the vents before she herself emerged.

“There was an accident, I shot at the guys…one of them came for Groot but it misfired, Rocket was…” 

“I’ll tell yah what happened!” Rocket roared, beneath his rage he could feel Groot’s tiny arm wringing his fur, pressing himself close almost to hide. He held the pot tighter.

“Star-flarker here burnt Groot’s arm off!” Peter’s jaw dropped, he craned he neck to see but Rocket wasn’t having any of it. Shielding Groot as much as himself he turned towards Gamora. “We’re leaving,” he tossed her the canister. “Let’s go.” Groot nuzzled his face against Rocket’s chest his cries now whimpering and small. “It’s alright buddy,” he whispered once they were back on the Milano. Peter refused to look at either of them and headed straight for his pilot’s seat. But even as Rocket said the words and watered Groot’s pot, he knew he was lying.

“I wish you would hurry up and grow. I need you back ol’ buddy.” Groot only cried, sap now running from his small nose as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets a talking to. Drax feels a familiar paternity while looking after Groot.

Contrary to what one may assume, Drax the destroyer did not like seeing innocent people in pain. The only people he did enjoy seeing in pain were his victims and his victims were not innocent. So when he saw Groot whimpering in his pot, staring at his missing arm he shouted,

“Who has harmed smaller Groot? I will tear them limb from limb!”

“That would be Star-Freak!” Rocket yelled, frantically setting Groot’s pot down in their common area. The flora colossus still looked forlorn at the burnt edges of his shoulder but he had stopped crying.

“Is anyone else hurt?” Gamora asked, punching the button on the Milano which closed the hatch.

“N…no,” Peter huffed, looming over Groot. Drax shook his head. Rocket only waved a hand dismissively.

“We got the alkaline too then?” Peter pulled it from his pack.

“Good. I’ll set us on course to Nowhere.” Without another word she left them.

“Shit…is he okay?” Peter’s eyes looked over Groot with fervor.

“Apart from his missing arm he is fine.” Drax surveyed.

“Why did you attack me? Rocket I could’ve dropped him all together!”

“He was scared you dumb ass!” The enhanced raccoon did not turn from watering the little tree. “He’s always been a scardy cat and he didn’t like being hoisted down in there!”

“I did stuff like that all the time when I was little!” It burst forth from him before he could say.

  
“This was nothing! Do you know how many times Yondu put my life on the line?!” Peter watched Rocket’s lips pull back in a teeth bearing threat though he still didn’t turn around.

“I must’ve broken my arm a thousand times!” Memories of loud noises and shaking ground came back to him in a torrent of unease. “Groot came back after he was blown up! This is just his arm….now look I feel really bad about it Rocket, I really do but…” Yondu’s harsh bravado shouted in his mind.

“What the hell is wrong with you boy?!” Peter gritted his teeth and looked over the mammal’s shoulder. Groot seemed to be no worse for wear, his occasional moans made the human’s stomach go in knots but it could’ve been worse right? “You nearly got us all killed!” The blue alien had screeched when they were back on the ship. At thirteen years old, this was his seventeenth mission out in the field with Yondu’s crew and at least his hundredth time getting injured. Years later Peter could still remember the excruciating pain he felt. Looking at Groot’s sad little face brought it back.

“Yeah he can regenerate you dumb-ass!” Rocket whirled on him, though his gun stayed strapped to his back. “He can regenerate when he’s full grown but this has never happened to him before! I don’t know how long it will take him to grow his arm back, who knows if he even can!” The reddish-brown eyes narrowed in a contempt that Peter was momentarily immune to. The husky voice of the ravager berated against his skull. 

“You damn idiot! How did you turn out so stupid?” He could see Yondu shake his head in dismay. “Knew I should’a let em’ eat you.”

“….my arm hurts…” his voice so small Peter himself could scarcely remember it. He could however remember the pain that came after when Yondu turned on him and punched him lightly in the shoulder. He remembered the blue ravager ordering their surgeon to check him out and the haphazard sling. Kraglin coming and checking on him a few nights later when he was crying in the ship’s bay. Peter’s childhood began and ended with his mother, his adolescence thrown together by Yondu and his crew and whatever job they were on.

“Just…let me know if he needs anything,” Peter called over whatever threats Rocket was yelling. With a wave of his hand he turned his back and made his way to the pilot’s char.

“How’s Groot?” Gamora asked after some time. He sighed, already imagining the lecture she had in store.

“I think he’ll be okay after a few days.” He watched her nod and stare out into the galaxy ahead of them 

“We need to be better,” she said quietly. 

“What do you mean?” He stole a look at her, frowning down in her lap as she expertly navigated the ship in the co-pilot seat. 

“With Groot. You said it yourself he’s a child. We have a responsibility to him, to take care of him and to make sure he doesn’t end up like…” Peter huffed. 

“What like me?”

“No.” She cut him off, glaring at him. “Like all of us.”  Responsibility. One of his mother’s favorite words. He could almost smile at it. But like all of us? What was she getting at? Whatever it was, Gamora declined to elaborate.

“We’ll get the alkaline to the collector and then we see about getting Groot healed if he hasn’t regenerated already.”

“Of course.” Peter nodded, thrusting the ship forward. The sooner they got in and out of Nowhere the better in his mind. In the blackness of space Peter could see the ravager ship clearly in his mind. There’d only been one time during his own messed up childhood when Yondu had actually cared for his safety. After a failed robbery attempt in the Tristone Quadrent. 

 _“Peter!? Stay still!” The tight coil around his head went tighter. The alien woman held him with an inexplicable strength. Yondu stood before him, frozen in place. Peter squirmed for the life of him but there was no other conceivable way of escaping. Sweat ran down his arms and legs, he tried to cough through the smoke but the suction of the tentacle that held him sucked all breath from his body._ Peter could still recall that fear. The same fear he only now realized had been in Groot’s eyes. _This…insert item here…is worth more than me? Why didn’t he recognize it sooner?_

“I’ve become him….” He laughed.

“Who?” Gamora inquired. He tilted the Milano to the left, avoiding an asteroid.

“Yondu.” But if he had become like Yondu in his neglect and utter dumb-ass misguided parenting, (if you could even call it that,) _…then maybe I can practice the good parts too…_ he recalled watching Yondu in his mind.

 _“Make one move and the boy gets it!” The fire-squid woman threatened_. Peter’s wide eyes had found Yondu’s fear and for that split second, that terrifying moment he could see Yondu’s fear, his helplessness and something else he couldn’t quite place. He got out of it eventually, when Yondu had charged head first towards the monster, and had come out worse for wear because of it. 

 _“It’s alright,” Yondu’s big warm, calloused hands carried him back to the ship. “Ain’t your fault boy,”_ that’s all he kept repeating. “ _It ain’t your fault.”_ He’d dropped Peter off, handing him to the crew and went straight to lay down. Peter shook his head, trying to dispel the memory.

“Yondu wasn’t all bad,” Gamora’s voice brought him back. “You’re here aren’t you? If he was really as bad as you make him out to be, you wouldn’t be here at all.”  He shrugged, it was easiest not to think about it.

“Let’s just get to the Collector.” She nodded and thrust the ship forward. 

“Do not trouble yourself small friend. Infants are stronger then they seem. One time my Kameria…”

“Shut up! I don’t care about your stupid kid!” Drax bristled. _Rodent. He isn’t worth it._ “Little Groot will be alright. Give him a few days.”  He watched the strange squirrel creature rattle off a list of profanities while the small tree in question finally fall asleep. Kameria got into all sorts of trouble he recalled with bittersweet memory. There was the time she almost got her hand bitten off by a Razator, the time she fell off that ledge and other time she got roughed up by that other boy on the playground. He’d pulled her hair and she broke his jaw. He’d been so proud.

_“I did it papa!”_

_“Good girl! You must never show mercy to those who wrong you.” He hugged her tight to him, her scent of wind blown hair and open fields, of dirt and a hint of sweat and sunshine._

_“He pulled my hair really hard, see?” She pulled her blonde hair out of the way to reveal her scalp_. Drax could still remember looking fine. Well…now that he thought of it there was bit of irritated redness. _“So I had to punch him really hard just like you showed me!” Kameria made a fist, pudgy fingers curling inward. She stuck her thumb inside to protect it and jabbed outward, hitting his chest squarely._

_“Ouch!” Drax recoiled, keeping her steady in his arms and watched her blue eyes go wide as orbs._

_“Oh papa I’m sorry!” That did it, he deflated with laughter._

_“I’m only kidding little bug!” The look of disappointment made him grin wider. “But I won’t be for long!” Her giggle in his memory was a choir of light. She wouldn’t be alive for long._ Happiness mixed with sorrow and Drax sighed, _breathe the pain out._ It was something he learned after the first kill he made. When all the adrenaline drained out of him and he only had his grief left. He hoped every day that he gave Kameria a good childhood, but he would ever know for certain. He watched Groot sleep, the tiny stub of burnt bark at the end of his shoulder showed no sign of regrowth. He swallowed the stab of worry. The same flavor of anxiety he had whenever Kameria got hurt. Something about the feeling filled him with a small amount of…happiness? No, familiarity and a soundness in feeling such. 

“How much longer till we reach Nowhere?” Rocket growled, sitting on a makeshift stool, he leaned over on the table looking over the small plant.

“I would guess three leaps at least.” The varmint sniffed irritated.

“Great.” Drax frowned,

“How is that grea…”

“Sarcasm.” He nodded, pretending as hard as he could that he understood. Rocket only glanced at Groot in his pot one last time before trudging off to work on some unknown project. 

“You are leaving him unsupervised?” Drax could not believe the foolishness leaving an unattended child alone. An unattended hurting child. 

“He ain’t a baby! He was scared but that don’t make him a child!” Drax frowned, _how could the varmint be so confused. I thought he was at least an intelligent animal._ Rocket didn’t elaborate, only cursing until he was out of sight. Groot’s good arm hung limply, head lolling. Drax felt the Milano glide soundlessly through the stars. _Odd. Quill usually plays music._ There was no music tonight. He glanced around and only then approached the plant. 

“….I do not know why.” He sat, little Groot breathed deeply, eyes moving beneath his wooden lids. “You remind me of her.” He shook his head at the strangeness of it. _Why?_ He mulled over it while sitting, waiting, watching. There was nothing he could do to help the little Groot, but he could at least sit to be there when he woke. He used to do the same when Kameria was first born and although this brought him no solace from his grief, it did seem to soothe his spirit. Drax the Destroyer needed little rest he would stay and watch the plant. He was not good at understanding the words of others. But he understood their actions and inactions. Groot slept and he observed. He was good at that.

“I got it Gams,” Peter said after awhile. “You can go sleep. It’ll be awhile before we reach Nowhere. Maybe check on Groot?” She was sure the plant was fine. She had to believe he was. _I did nothing to protect him. Never have._ She only nodded and made her way to her own quarters, spying Drax along the way. He sat diligently, his eyes now softly looking over the tiny tree. _All seems well,_ in her room Gamoa slid the iron door shut. Wringing her hands she sat on the edge of her bunk, hands folded and head bent. _We have to make sure he is not raised. We have a responsibility to him, to take care of him and to make sure he doesn’t end up like us. Like me._ She sighed, ignoring the aching in her own metal implants, one of the more memorable pieces of her own childhood. Before Thanos she was sure there was something. She knew he killed her parents, she remembered that. She remembered their deaths and watching out the window of the ship as all she’d ever known until that point was destroyed. But for the life of her, she could not remember the intricacies of her upbringing before Thanos. No favorite food, no happy nights reading stories with her mother, or walks with her father. Even Quill had music at least. She had screams and silence in the rooms where Thanos trained her. _No one deserves that upbringing. No one….not even Nebula._ Gamora strode to her lifting weights. Ten, fifteen, twenty…thirty, fifty pounds. With a heave she lifted, her core burning as the hoisted the beam above her head. Her feet planted firmly into the floor. The aching pain vibrated through her, giving her a focus for her thoughts. She bent her arms, the pain changed slightly, then lifted again. Up and down went the warm strain of muscle and machine inside her. When fighting and keeping up her strength the two parts of her worked in tandem quite well. Whenever else, they were a contradiction, a dark reminder that Thanos’s power would always be inside her. No matter the ends to which she used it. It was there.  Fifteen more times she lifted her weights, adding five lbs each time. Then she spared, then cleaned her weapons and buried herself deeper in distraction. Only when she was sure that no one else was up did she come to the common area and found herself smiling at the little flora colossus sleeping form.

“He’s still asleep?” Drax nodded, she moved to sit beside him and watched as he scoot over for her. Smiling she looked at Groot.

“Get some rest Drax, it’s been a long day.”

“This day is no longer then any other.” Gamora explained and he smiled sheepishly. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s alright.” He stood,

“Thank you.” The rare frankness in his eyes made her grin. “…and thank you for assisting me today in our fight. You are a worthy companion in battle.” 

“Thank you Drax.” He nodded, sparing a moment to gently caress the top of the sleeping Groot before leaving. In the stillness Gamora watched the baby tree.

“I’ll never let what happened to me, happen to you.” She vowed with as much seriousness as if she were vowing to a full grown companion. “Today I failed in that duty and you were hurt. I will not fail you…”  the image of his spores, yellow and calm filled her eyes. The serenity as they fell, his deep resonating voice. “I will not fail you.” As if on cue Groot blinked his eyes awake. He looked up in her in confusion for a few moments, only to smile and reach for her hair. He tugged gently, producing a laugh from her. “You aren’t in pain any more are you?” He only tugged her hair again and made a squeak of joy. _Little thing is going to make me go soft._ She thought, not all too ashamed. They played until even the assassin’s eyes grew heavy and Groot again began to doze off, one miniature wooden hand grasping her finger. “And Rocket say’s you’re not a baby.”

 _These. Flarking, Compressor. Coils._ Rocket tried again, just as he predicted the turbines on the Milano were getting all gummed up. The inner workings of the thrusters were also shabby. _Cheapskate._ He added it to the list of reasons he was gonna shoot Star-Mooch in the leg one of these days. Sighing the mammal continued his work at a frantic pace. Working with the motors kept him from thinking about how badly he’d already failed his promise to do a better job being Groot’s partner. He whirled the coil around and cut it short, trying to attach it to the main converter. _He ain’t a kid. He’s still Groot. Still my Groot._ Rocket’s mouth watered for alcohol, any drop of it, but they hadn’t landed anywhere in a while long enough for him to stock up. No one else was up, he knew that much from the lack of noise about the ship. Even Gamora who normally stayed up the latest was now asleep. Rocket worked, snipping, tucking, and manufacturing the thrusters on the Milano, improvising wherever he had to. _Groot ain’t a baby…ain’t a child or anything else but small and he’s going to grow…_ Rocket didn’t know what a childhood was. He had a vague scent-based memory of something warm and musk smelling. He always assumed it was his mother. But beyond that single smell Rocket could only remember chemicals and iron and plastic. He never had a childhood, he had the process by which he was made into what he was now. Some little monster. He knew patronizing very well, he knew what it was to be delegitimized, infantilized. Reduced to a freak or a fluffy pet and Groot was none of these things. No matter how tiny and helpless he was for now. Rocket inspected the last of the turbines, making last minute tweaks and only after testing them did he go to the engine room. He spotted Groot along the way. In his pot, one limb missing. It made him recoil with guilt. _He ain’t a kid….he’s just…growing. He’s still my Groot. Isn’t he?_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Groot gets into trouble. Peter tries to apologize. Rocket drinks.

It never ceased to amaze Gamora that a small twig with only one limb could get into so much trouble in the time it took them to get to Nowhere. It began, like many of Groot’s antics, with a crash and a scream. Unlike most of his antics, Rocket did not curse and come running. There was hardly a sound at all which was why she, after a few minutes of speculation, ran towards the sound.

“Uhh, Rocket no wonder we keep having problems with the engine it’s filthy in here!” She side-stepped the heap of explosives, by this time it no longer shocked her. The scent of smoke, oil and old beer. She looked around, lifting several boxes of equipment trying to find the plant through the mess. “Groot? Groot?” 

“uhhhh,” his small cry sounded once more. Gamora peered under a large pipe and gasped. 

“Groot!” Her heart thudded in her chest, lunging forward she snatched the stick of lit randarium dynamite. He looked at her with large, shocked eyes and bent his mouth into a frown. “Groot, what are you doing? You nearly blew yourself up!” Tears of sap came to the edges of his eyes and she sighed, taking the stick of dynamite and putting it out. “Do you know what would have happened if I hadn’t caught you?” Evidently the tiny tree did not. Gamora took a deep breath, letting the momentary panic slip out her pursed lips. _We have a responsibility to take care of him,_ she nodded to herself and crouched down, moving aside a box of ammunition. “We just don’t want you to get hurt okay?” Groot stared blankly. “I don’t even want to know how you lit that up but you can’t do it anymore and you cannot put it in your mouth. Understand?” Groot only sniffled. _I am not cut out for this…_ Gamora thought begrudgingly. 

“Hey Gams!” Peter’s voice echoed, “we’re gonna be landing soon!” She straightened, taking Groot’s pot in her hands and going up to the flight deck. Drax was already strapped into his seat.

“Here, take him.” Drax accepted the pot with a reluctant grunt. Any emotion he may have felt as the tree was sleeping quickly dissipated as Groot awoke. The small plant was insufferable, he’d gotten over his initial subdued nature after his injury and was now a stick of unavoidable catastrophe. He’d somehow gotten into Peter’s cassette deck and the whole ship awoke to the blaring sound of 70’s rock music so Peter had explained. Not that Gamora had been sleeping much anyways. A few hours later Groot pulled all of the strips out of one of Quill’s cassettes. Luckily it was not Awesome Mix Vol 1 or 2. But he had gotten a time out and a stern talking to. Rocket objected to this of course, reminding everyone that Groot was not, in his words “a flarking child that needed to be disciplined by kurtukan idiots.” She had only rolled her eyes and walked away. It was they’re responsibility to protect Groot sure, but actually parent him? She was not prepared for that. Buckling in, Gamora watched the looming head of the celestial drift closer. 

“So we taking Groot or not?” Drax asked the question Gamora had been wondering. Peter pushed the door lever and she watched as the Milano’s doors opened, revealing the familiar stench of sour chemicals and alcohol.

“No one,” Peter decided before the doors came all the way down. “It’s the Collector. We need to be on our toes. Besides it’s not safe to leave anyone alone with Groot in the ship.” Gamora watched Rocket snarl his objection,

“I can’t believe your actually suggesting that Star-Face!”

“I know!” He admitted “It sounds really bad, but we will be in and out really quickly. It’s not safe to leave anyone alone with Groot on Nowhere.” The mammal relented, 

“A’right but I’m holding onto him the entire time.” As if to make it apparent he picked up Groot’s pot and took it into his arms.

“Rocket,” Peter started but she recognized his desperation. As they walked down the ramp she grabbed his arm.

“Let him go.” He looked at her, through the emerging sounds of the urban landscape.

“I know, it’s just that…” his eyes held guilt but she only patted his arm briefly and followed Drax as they weaved through the crowded city. Gamora stepped quickly with practiced deftness, conscious of the eyes on her. Luckily the Collector’s showcase was not far. From the ruin the Infinity stone had wreaked he had now begun to rebuild. Smashed cages lay amid makeshift ones, metal beams upheld the second and third levels of the establishment. They walked in and out of the half-constructed halls and even the most dangerous woman in the world could not help but look at those creatures that had been caught and recaptured after the explosion.

Rocket did not look. He did not feel for them, he told himself he did not feel for them. He couldn’t afford to feel akin to them. _I am not like them,_ he told himself as they walked by a strange four footed fury creature. Feeling for them would mean remembering the other creatures on Halfworld, those who got free and those who did not. He swallowed the sympathy and pressed Groot closer to his chest. Staring down at the charred ground that cage, the one he had not escaped from, hardened another layer around his heart.

“Guardians,” the Collector’s slimy welcome brought Rocket from his thoughts.

“Your renovations are coming along well,” Peter observed shaking the fancy man’s hand.

“Do you have it?” Quill nodded, reaching into his jacket and taking out container. In Rocket’s protective arms Groot squirmed. The Collector silently appraised the substance, some strange bellowing noise nearly caught Gamora off guard and she almost flinched at the loud noise. Almost. The animal in its cage, no, tank, gazed at her with forlorn eyes. Pity stirred in her stomach, an unfamiliar feeling but she hardened herself quickly. There was no time for that.

“We’d like to get paid.” She interjected. The Collector nodded, leading them to a cabinet propped against the wreckage of what had been a wall.

“Of course, 75,000 units. Do with it what you will. I will be in touch if…” Gamora watched his gaze drift to Rocket and then downward to Groot. She put a hand to her sword. “Is that….the same Groot?” He inquired, stepping between her and Peter. Rocket bristled, one hand going to his gun.

“What’s it to you?” The enhanced raccoon growled.

“I seem to remember being promised a sliver of his bark,” the Collector patiently reminded them. The assassin watched Rocket’s eyes narrow and shift, thinking it through.

“Look this tree saved the Galaxy,” Peter interjected. “More than any of us. You weren’t around. It’s cool man. We got you that alkaline our business is done here.” The Collector’s lips pressed into a thin line, again that bellow from one of the cages.

“I was promised a piece of this specimen.” He reiterated with a force that made Rocket grip the handle of his gun.

“Yes but that was the old Groot,” Drax stepped closer. “This one is a baby and cannot even talk.” 

“Hey!” Rocket glared at him, the words Drax spoke sprinkled salt on the wound in his worry. “He ain’t new! He’s just regrowing he’s the same Groot!” Years of practice masked the desperate hope in his voice.

“Exactly,” the Collector beamed leaning down to Groot’s level. The little plant only stared. “A promise is a promise. Gamora, Peter and Drax watched with surprise as he revealed a pair of shears from his cloack. “Now hold still, this won’t hurt that mu…” A high-pitched scream hit their ears as Groot let loose three green vines from his good hand, smacking the Collector straight across the face and then whipping them around, Rocket flinched as a small leaf, evidently sharp, created a red streak of blood across his cheek. The vine twisted, wrapping around the man’s wrist holding the threatening shears. There was a snap, they dropped and the Collector screamed.

“That little…!” Peter grabbed the bundle of units,

“Let’s go!” They ran, ignoring the profanities that threatened them. 

“So he obviously didn’t agree to that!” Peter shouted, veering around a large circular cage.

“I don’t blame him,” Gamora leapt over a fallen piece of rubble as they made their way out back onto the streets.

“Yah….got the units?” Rocket panted. Quill nodded, showing him. The first non-confrontational interaction since Trator.

“I do not believe that man will hire us again.” Drax stated. Peter shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. _Flark it Groot you didn’t need to break the guy’s wrist! He’s our richest client!_ Rocket thought disparagingly.

“Let’s just take it easy alright? We got our money let’s meet back on the ship in a few hours.” Wordlessly he divided it up, handing each of them their cash. Rocket took his and tucked it into the pocket of his suit.

“…and that makes three of us.”  Rocket’s grip on Groot’s pot tightened.

“Four.” Peter frowned dumbly. _Selfish flarking son of a weegot!_

“Groot Star-Moron! He got more hurt then the rest of us on this job, he get’s his share of the cut.” Peter glanced skeptically at Gamora who shrugged.

“The animal is right.” Drax pointed out. Peter fumbled helplessly,

“Yeah but what’s he even going to spend it on? He’s a…" 

“He ain’t a baby!” Rocket sneered, feeling his fur raise.

“He IS a baby,” Peter glared. “And he’s got no use for units so your just going to end up spending them yourself!” _Star-douche thinks that’s my game here?_ The implication stung. Rocket shoved it down, adding it to the growing pyre of his pain. 

“I’m serious dude! He lost is flarking arm! He gets his cut and he’ll spend it however he wants.” Peter relented, taking the units back and redistributed it. Handing Groot’s share to Rocket Peter eyed him suspiciously. “Save your breath Star-Jerk.” Rocket’s tail twitched in irritation, taking both shares of units. Groot only smiled obliviously. 

“See you all back on the ship,” Gamora waved nonchalant as she walked down the crowded street. Drax departed with a silent nod and Quill turned on his heel, leaving Rocket and Groot to the slums of Nowhere.

Rocket stumbled as yet another clueless alien tripped over him. _Krutaken jerks, never had to worry about getting stepped on when Groot was larger._ The crowds made his hackles rise, there were so many things above him. Aliens of all shapes and sizes, even a few humies. Whenever they’d be on planets like this where everyone towered over him, (which was most planets) Rocket always perched on Groot’s shoulder. He could see everything, could survey his surroundings, mentally configuring taps and booeys should anyone try to catch them. But this time Rocket just carried Groot’s pot and tried not to get stepped on.

“Watch where you’re going vermin!”

“Hey! I’m walking here rat!” The enhanced Raccoon snuck down alleyways where he could, but even those were crowded and the smell was worse than Dravia. So many faces, walking in pairs or threes. Rocket quelled that salty mix of sadness and isolation, eyes searching between the legs and tentacles and appendages at eye level for the nearest dive bar. He’d already spent some of his units on new power converters, ammunition, a wrench and top of the line Scaararran aluminum. Glancing down at Groot who watched the streets in wonder, Rocket hefted the pot and walked on, sneaking underfoot through the bombastic, flashy shop stalls. The scent of rotting organic matter permeated lingered no matter how sweet and succulent the food in the stalls. _Hell of a lot better than the smell of chemicals and metal,_ he told himself, shivering at the memory of it. Slinking down the steps, Rocket made his way into one of the few establishments that boasted Kree Kraamor, one of the strongest liquors in the galaxy and illegal in five provinces. The bright blue liquid was poured into the glass in a refreshing cascade. Groot eagerly watched, stretching out towards the triangular glass.

“No Groot,” Rocket pushed him away, “it’s not water. You’re gonna make yourself sick.” He lifted the glass, smiling and brought it to his muzzle. Groot gurgled and reached out with a single vine. “Flark it!” The thin green whisp knocked the glass clean out of Rocket’s paw. “Damn it Groot!” Kree Kraamor spilled down his pants and across his chest, the glass briefly flew through the air before an expensive sounding crash sounded on the floor.

“You’ll have to pay for that!” The bar tender scolded, she looked at Groot. “And we don’t allow children in this establishment.

“He’s not a…oh forget it.” He throws down the 100 units for the glass and orders water for Groot,who happily drinks it down before taking a nap. Eight drinks later Rocket’s mind is warm and fuzzy around the edges. _Damn metabolizing mechanisms, have to work twice as hard to get drunk._

“Rocket?” He turned, Peter sat down beside him. “How’s it going?” 

“Mmmh, fine Star-nut. You?” Rocket looked down at Groot, the little plant now up once more and trying to tip himself out of the pot, into the empty glass.

“Listen….I’m sorry about what happened,” Peter said gently.

“What’ll it be?” Rocket waited as the humie orderd. _Contraxian Tribot, typical humie._ The mammal blinked slowly, reaching a finger into his glass to stop Groot from trying to crawl in. The little flora colossus squeaked and bit him, gently mouthing at his finger.

“Anyway,” Peter continued, staring at the counter. “I’m sorry about what happened on Trator. You’re right. It was a stupid idea and Groot got hurt.” Rocket nodded, his mood somewhat quieted by the alcohol.

“It ain’t me you got to apologize to Quill.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Groot makes a developmental stride. A bar fight ensues. Drax does not follow the chore wheel.

Rocket watched Peter stare into his glass perturbed, with an amused smile. Between his furry arms Groot also studied Quill. The human rubbed his face, covering his eyes before continuing. _It’s hard to admit you are wrong when your entire life and reputation depended on being right._ If being raised by ravagers had taught him anything it was that you always pretended that you were right even if you weren’t. Being wrong showed weakness, being wrong planted doubts in the minds of your crew and your clients. Quill sipped more of his contraxian tibot, cool and pleasantly stinging on his tongue. He closed his eyes, swallowing the yellow liquid, allowing it’s flavor to run down his throat. Not refreshing but liberating, allowing him to speak more freely. He opened his eyes, Groot stared at him as his eyes slid towards his black splintered shoulder and missing space where his arm should have been. Peter looked back at the little twigs face, so full and trusting. His heart thrummed in his chest, _I’ve been the one giving that look…._ images of his mother, of Yondu flashed through his mind.  He rubbed his temples, trying to drown out the background noise of the semi-crowded bar. Taking a breath he looked at Groot once more.

“Groot, I…I shouldn’t have…” He swallowed, Rocket’s smirk was not unnoticed.

“You’re loving this aren’t you?” the raccoon like creature only grinned, one claw tapping the rim of his own glass.

“I was willing to put you in harm’s way for a handful of units,” the very notion of what he’d done hadn’t pricked his conscious as potently until just now when he said it aloud. Tentatively Peter took his glove off, reached out to Groot and touched the top of his head. “Nothing should be worth that,” he finished. “I’m sorry.” Groot closed his eyes in pleasure as Peter continued patting him. “Oh that reminds me!” He realized, digging into his satchel, “I got something for each of you.” Rocket, took a another slug of the drink he’d just ordered before turning to Peter. “It’s for the Milano’s thrusters,” he explained, holding out a large black box with several wires coming out. 

“Pete!” Rocket’s eyes widened, “that’s a top grade Blazman Connector!” Peter grinned, relief breaking over him.

“Figured we might as well invest in some quality parts instead of just replacing junk piece after junk piece.” Rocket laughed, taking the thing in his hands.

“Maybe you’re not so much of a dumbass after all!” 

“And for Groot, I hope it’s okay…” he took out two things: an orange and blue glass ball and a package of Graaton Grow. Groot reached out to the glass ball, touching it in wonder and drew back in surprise as it lit up with a yellow lights inside.

“The lady I talked to said those are real Groot spores….she must’ve ordered them before….” He halted, well aware of what had become of the rest of the Groots several years back. Rocket didn’t even flinch as two burly aliens beside them rushed passed, clearly about to break into a fight.

“She also said the Graaton Grow was good, they use it on other Flora species.” He looked at Groot, who now cocked his head looking at the ball. “I’m really sorry Groot. It won’t happen again, I promise. You’ve sacrificed enough.” Peter smiled, his own memory of that day was obscured by holding the Infinity Stone, the battle with Ronnan, but he too remembered Groot’s protective embrace.

“Aaa….I….” Peter watched Baby Groot’s mouth open and close in confusion, trying to get something out. “I…..a…aaa..mm…” Looking up at Peter the little plant reached out his own wooden hand, “I….a…ammm..g…Grooo.” Peter broke into a grin, even though he couldn’t understand them they caused the sun to rise over his tired heart. He took Groot’s hand in his and squeezed it with joy. Looking at Rocket’s own amazed expression Peter laughed. _Adding those tears to the list of proof that “Rocket actually DOES have a heart.”_

 _“_ He says it’s okay,” Rocket translated. “He forgives you.” The raccoon grumbled reluctantly. At the sound of his voice Groot turn to Rocket, “I…I am Groot!” Rocket breathed out shakily, his eyes blinking back more tears while his face smiled. He opened his arms to the small plant and Groot reached out his vines, wrapping around the raccoon’s torso. One of the vines gently touched his furry face. Peter looked away, taking another contented sip of his beverage.

“Hey! You Star-Lord?” _Finally,_ Quill put on his best grin and turned. He did not get enough time to see who it was before something hard slammed into his face and he fell in a dizzying spin of pain. “You stole my ship!” _….Great…._ wiping his bloodied lip. 

“Adry, I’be been looking all over the galaxy for you!” Peter said straightening up to face the orange skinned woman. “Let me explain,” he began, looking at her two goons. 

“I don’t want you to explain! You crashed my ship!”  He put his hands up as the three of them encroached.

“I didn’t crash it exactly,” he clarified, “I had a rough, unexpected landing.” She hissed, long tongue flicking out between green lips.

 “You ssstole it and crashed it!” Braced against the bar he splayed his hands outward.

 “I was gonna give it back Adry! I was in a bind! Some Gravian guys were after me and Nova Corps still had the Milano. I thought we had an understanding!” 

“I sssaved your life!” Her tail rattled, “and that is how you repay me?” Peter glanced at the burly alien to her right. _Three throwing knives and a Tormak Blaster. Hope Rocket’s got my back._ “You freak!” She yelled, “you half-bred, ingrate! I should’ve let you die!” 

“Hey!” Rocket snapped, turning to position himself between Groot and the others. “The only freak I see here is you chumps.” Adry glanced at Rocket briefly before she nodded to the alien on her right. It nodded and leapt forward, grabbing Quill. He reeled, trying to turn away but was too slow. The punch hit his side like a hammer and he cursed, lashing out and kicking.

His boot hit the alien in it’s back. It grunted and made to go for his face. There was a snarling sound and he watched Rocket leap on the second alien, scratching and biting. It spun, blindly trying to pry the creature from his head. Quill narrowly missed a throwing punch and stretched for his glass, throwing it in the face of the alien. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction Peter ducked, wrapping his arms around the alien’s torso and tackling him the ground. The bar dissolved into chaos. Peter wriggled his way out from under the alien, only to be hit in the neck by Adry’s own powerful tail, he grabbed around it and pulled himself up, inches away from her face. She hissed and twisted wrapping around his leg. 

“Aaaah!” Going down once more Peter rolled trying to get her under him but she easily wriggled her way out of his grasp. His vision blurred momentarily as something hard connected with his temple.

“You flarking piece of shit!” Rocket’s graveling voice cursed and Peter felt the vibration of the floor as something heavy was brought down. He came to his senses, shook his head and kicked out with both feet before Adry could throw herself on him. She sailed across the dimly lit bar, knocking over two tables, and several other patrons. He  got up, but didn’t have time to feel relieved as one of the aliens yelled, he turned and punched just in time, ignoring the pain in his wrist. Then he ran grabbing the alien from the back of his neck and meant to bang his head into the bar stool but it turned out of his grasp. Peter watched it reach for its blaster,

“Son of a…!” Something shattered, the alien blinked, then wobbled, then fell at Peter’s feet. Behind it Groot smiled mischievously in his pot, shards of glass littered the floor.

“I am Groooot!”

“Ey! Where did you hear that word?!” Rocket, still perched atop the second alien’s head shouted over the chaos. His rival made to grab at him but the raccoon was too quick, one clawed hand stabbed at the goon’s eye while he still looked half proud, half shocked in Groot’s direction. Adry’s feathered captain’s hat flashed in the corner of Peter’s vision and he dove, grabbing a chair and ran at her. She tried to backtrack but he brought down the chair on her side and she faltered, 

“I really didn’t mean to steal your ship Adry! I just…” he was knocked back by her punch, falling against another creature, amid the many who had now begun to fight each other. Peter elbowed it in the face as it tried to grab him and ran back to intercede Adry who was reigning blows down on Rocket in an attempt to get him off her bodyguard. The raccoon hissed, using all fours he jumped from the whimpering alien, one hand over its eye, and on to the snake like woman. Peter took advantage and ran at her again, shoving down a heavy boot on the tip of her tail. She shrieked, turning on him and Rocket went back to the wounded guard. Trying to reach for its own gun with the hand that wasn’t on its eye, Rocket grinned.

“Nice try!” In a dash he ran under the alien’s legs, up its back, down across his chest and bit his hand, hard. Blood sprang from between Rocket’s fangs as the alien tried to wave him off. Peter parried in just enough time before another alien, this one a bat like creature, swept past him on its way to fight an odd bug like creature.

“I am Groot!” The little plant’s ecstatic cry came over the maylay.

“Groot! Language!” Rocket scolded, through clenched teeth. He held on tight despite his contender trying to shake him off, banging him down on the bar counter. Peter advanced on Adry again,

“Listen I really don’t want to fight I just…” her long, snake like form coiled around him, even though she was cornered. Peter squirmed, breath being expelled out his lungs as she constricted.

“The penalty for stealing from me is death Star-Lord!” She roared. _Damn it….I really expected my end would be a bit more exciting than a bar brawl…_ Peter kicked, arched his neck trying to see where Rocket was, to get his attention but the crowded loud establishment had since become a fray of uncoordinated violent revelry. Peter’s lungs burned, he fought against it but every time he did the coils around him tightened with unforeseen strength. 

“Adry!” He sqeaked, voice cracking. “Please! We can…!” Her grip tightened, the colors in the room became fuzzy.

“Goodbye Star…” _Wooosh,_ a hissing screech and what had been Adry’s leering face was now replaced by Gamora and her blade. Black sludge exploded as the coils around him went limp. In a rush of air Peter gapped, trying to suck in as much air as possible.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Gamora asked, picking him up before he even got the chance to steady himself. “You nearly got yourself killed!”

“I…d..didn’t mean to!” He choked out.

“Come on Rocket, we’re going back to the ship. Get your stuff.” Peter watched the fight slowly come to a cautious end. Patrons of the bar stepped, or crawled or limped away from them on either side, making an easy pass for Gamora and the three of them. Adry’s form still bled and Peter swallowed his stomach. _Shit Gamora there was no need for decapitation…._ The body guard Groot had knocked out groaned face down as the passed, the second one slumped against an over turned table, still covering its eye.

“The two of you are insufferable!” Gamora chided once they emerged from the bar. Peter held his head in his hands, still gulping for air. “What if you had been knocked out? What would have happened to Groot?”

 “He was fine!” Rocket whined, hoisting the pot on his hip. “He held his own!” The green woman arched her brown skeptically. 

“I can clearly see that, he’s not the one who almost got choked to death, or is licking his wounds.” At this Rocket ceased licking his left arm and avoided their gazes.

“We had it under control.” Peter wheezed, shuffling through the streets. She rolled her eyes.

Back on the ship, Drax received them with a congratulations, patting Peter on the back roughly.

“You fought well I can see!” 

“Yeah thanks man, look did you make dinner? I’m starving.” He settled down in the common area, Drax frowned. 

“No. I did not prepare a meal. Was I supposed to?” With an exasperated sigh Peter shrugged,

“Dude look at the chore wheel! It’s your turn!” The destroyer grimaced. 

“I still do not understand this chore wheel. How can chores be on a wheel?” Peter sat, resting his elbows on the table where Rocket had set Groot down. The little plant happily played with his glass ball.

“I’d say we should leave this planet after the mess Quill and Rocket just got into,” Gamora stated, hands on her hips. “But on Nowhere such things seem to be common place. We don’t have another job at the moment yet, what do you suggest Peter?”

“I don’t know, but hey here’s something cool, Groot said his first words!” Drax’s eyes widened with pride, 

“He did?! What were they?!” Peter sighed, leaning back against the bench. _It’s safe now, we’re done. We’re on the Milano,_ he reminded himself.

“Take a wild guess,” he chuckled.

“I am Groot?”

“Bingo,” he gave the destroyer the thumbs up as Groot, on cue turned to Drax.

“I am Groot!” Peter watched Gamora break into a grin against her will and Drax happily take Groot’s pot into his hands. He touched his large forehead to the tree’s small one.

“I have longed to hear those words for many days my friend. I am sorry if I ever grew tired of them.” He slowly pulled back from Groot and set him down once more. Peter watched in awe, wishing he could remember a time when Yondu had spoken so affectionately.

“We should stay here the night,” he decided. “Everyone get some rest. We deserve it.” Gamora nodded, as did Drax. With relief Peter got up, aiming for the kitchen but paused looking at Groot who now began to blink with heavy lidded eyes. _I’m still sorry buddy. I’m gonna help take care of you more._ With a goofy grin, he pushed the pot under Gamora’s moonlit lamp. _Rocket may be your trash panda father, but I get to be your goofy irresponsible man-child uncle._


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocket sees how happy Groot is with the other team members at it makes him jealous/sad. Gamora realizes she can provide more than just hurt and pain. Peter looses his temper.

_I love you Rocket! I missed you!_ The enhanced creature repeated Groot’s new first words to himself as he worked on the Milano’s thrusters, complete with the new Blazman Connector. While it didn’t have the same good old fashion noise, it was more efficient. The bruises on his arms and torso were still tender but like usual he threw his mind into tinkering with the mechanics of the ship and his weapons instead of focusing in the pain. He glanced over at Groot who was sleeping soundly. His chest felt lighter, he smiled as he worked dutifully.

Gamora set her weights down at the sound of Groot’s cry sometime later. _What is going on?!_ She stormed out of her quarters towards the sound on impulse. Even the noise of a crying tiny tree put her on edge. _What must I do to stop it?_ She wondered, _what steps must I take to eliminate the thing that upsets him?_ It was a mission. Just like getting Quill out of that bar, and brining the Infinity Stone to the Nova Corps had been a mission. Just like her missions for Thanos. _Thanos._ She climbed down the latter to the engine room, the whirr of the engines echoed in her ears as she ducked under the pipes. 

“Ahh, ahhhh,ehh,” his high pitched distress guided her through the cluttered room. She fumbled her way through the dark, even with enhanced night-vision the place was hard to see with all of Rocket’s gadgets. Something shuffled, Gamora’s eyes scanned the room, another shuffle, in the shadows something moved. _Could be one of those alien’s from the bar come to…_ another whine resonated, something scratched. Groot’s small cry reached her ears again. Gamora hunkered down, hand on her sword just in case. In the dark she could make out the little plant squirming in his pot. He reached out, touching her hand, gripping it with more strength then she thought possible.

“Groot, what is it?” She followed his finger to where he pointed just ahead the shadows moved again.

“I am Groot,” he whispered. _Damn enhancements make me superior in every way except for linguistics._ She watched the dark lump Groot pointed at move again, this time violently. It hissed, sucked in a breath and whimpered.

“Stay behind me,” instinctively she reached out her arm guarding Groot from whatever stirred in the darkness. _What must I do to eliminate what upsets him? Who must I kill to please him?_ It was the same mantra just different words. Gamora stepped closer, craning her neck over another large metal block of wires and quietly unsheathed her sword.

“I am Groot!!!”

“Sssshh!!” She silenced him and lifted her sword upward over her head, the darkness closed around her and moved again. The high pitched whine sent a twinge through her spine. As before every strike she sucked in a breath, raised the sword and brought it down in an arch to-

 _Rocket?!_ She stopped, sword clattering to the ground as she looked in shock at the shivering, sweating animal below her. Rocket growled, kicking and clawing at something she could not discern. 

“I am Groot,” the little tree said quietly, vines slowly extended past Gamora, resting on the raccoon’s shoulder. He wore simple black pants but Gamora could see the hardware in his back and on his collar bones gleam through the dark. She watched him fidget once more, that odd animalistic hissing coming from his muzzle. _Nightmares,_ she realized, knowing the signs of them all too well. When Gamora tried to remember the nights of solace during her own up-bringing, they were few and far between. She learned long ago it was better not to sleep then to dream of torture and misery. Thankfully she had the technology in her nervous system rigged to not require any slumber. Rocket didn’t have that option. She turned to Groot, _what am I supposed to do?_ Her fists clenched with the frustration of it.

“I am Groot,” the tree said gently, trying to scoot his pot precariously closer. Getting an idea, Gamora lifted the pot upward, forcing a smile. She watched Rocket struggle with his foe, _I cannot fight that battle for him,_ she shook her head at the the sweating creature, _but…maybe…_ she remembered Peter speaking about his own mother, how she used to comfort him.  Comfort, gentleness, kindness, compassion, those were things she was only learning. She had never known them before the guardians. _Neither had Rocket,_ she realized, watching the animal buckle and cry out once more. Groot whimpered, watching and tried to reach out to him though his vines couldn't grow far enough now that Gamora had his pot hoisted on her hip.

“Let’s hope I don’t get bit for this,” she whispered aloud. Slowly she reached out, aiming for Rocket’s shaking shoulders. “Rocket? Wake up, it’s just a dream.” The raccoon clawed at the air, tail thrashing. “Rocket,” Gamora tried again, this time holding her breath as she brushed her fingers through his slick fur. He was cold, in a sweat and hissed but did not move to harm her. “Rocket! Wake up.” She settled her hand on his shoulder and momentarily flinched as he went ridged, whimpering. “What do I do?” She glanced at Groot, the flora colossus only leaned down, and she set him beside Rocket’s curled back. _My mom would climb into bed with me,_ Gamora remembered Peter recalling, _she’d sing me a song and hug me, telling me happy things to think about instead of scary things._ Gamora grimaced, _Why? When there were so many scary things in the galaxy and so few happy things?_  She tried waking Rocket three times more, gently shaking him. “Rocket, it’s okay.” Her hand on his shoulder flattened and she watched him exhale, tale going limp. _What if I…?_ Her first impulse was to shake the idea off. _It’s absurd. This is Rocket, angry, drunk, explosive, don’t-touch-him-with-a-ten-foot-pole-Rocket._ But her hand remained and the raccoon did nothing to shake it off. His mouth opened, and she pulled away but it only bit at the air.

“I am Groot,” Groot looked up at her with those eyes. Those same eyes she’d seen before the explosion. She still could not fathom it. _To act so selflessly, and for complete strangers .Why?_ It was alien to her, her who had lived by self-preservation at all costs. Counter intuitive.

“I’ll try,” she said to him, only guessing at what he could have meant. Slowly Gamora lifted herself up onto the raised platform where Rocket had created his nest. She eased herself gingerly, putting her legs on either side of the animal, trying not to touch him. Setting herself down she leaned her back against the wall and watched the raccoon flip over on his back, claw and hiss, 

"N...no," he groaned, eyes pinched shut. "Don't take me apart!" He rolled onto his side once more, muzzle hitting Gamora's knee. “Rocket,” she forced herself to whisper, trying to imagine Meredith Quill comforting Peter. “It’s okay,” she reached a hand out once more, stroking the wet fur of Rocket’s back.  “You’re alright.”

Beside her Groot nudged himself against her hip. Gamora’s fingers gently traced along Rocket’s spine, stopping at where the metal implants went into his back. She frowned at the dried blood and crusted skin around them, the raised, puffy, irritated flesh. _Cheap steal….meant for low-grade delivery ships and junky old machines…not biological life forms._ With disgust she reached over to the table beside them, grasping a rag and ever so carefully lay it down over the implants. She felt Rocket go stiff again. “I’m just going to clean them,” she explained despite the fact that he remained asleep. Gamora gently massaged the cloth over his back, carefully wiping away at the build up where the metal met flesh. Rocket squealed in his sleep.

“It’s okay,” she dropped the rag, tossing it over to the floor when she was satisfied. Rocket kicked his back legs out at some unseen foe and Gamora tentatively resumed petting him. Groot’s vines slowly grew not only around Rocket but began to gently wrap around her legs as well. In the dim engine room the comforting darkness calmed her own nerves. Her hand caressed the fur of Rocket’s sides, going in and out rapidly. “Shhh,” she tried. “You are alright. No one is going to take you apart.” She remembered his outburst in the bar. Groot’s pot nestled between her hip and her arm, the little plant leaning against her. She glanced down at Rocket when his body seemed to release tension. He slowly ceased his whimpering and snarling, curling himself up in Gamora’s lap. She resumed her petting, trying to imagine what comfort was like. “Groot is here,” she reassured him. “You are safe.” _You are safe,_ she whispered to herself. Time slowed in the black vacuum of the engine room. Her methodic caresses continued, stopping only when Rocket moved his head on to her leg, wedging his nose under her elbow.  She could not keep the smile from her face. Groot’s little snores joined the whirr of the engine and Rocket’s sound breathing. Gamora watched the two of them, her grin getting wider at the soft thrumming noise that now came out of Rocket’s throat. A content, purr like sound. She spared another look at Groot, a smile on his face as he slept, leaning against her, his vines around them all even though they were thin and none too many. She looked at Rocket, _you spend so much time taking care of Groot….I didn’t realize you’d lost the one person took care of you._ If they were anything like her own nightmares, this was not the first time, nor would it be the last time, that these terrors would plague him.

“Well you haven’t,” she whispered, "not anymore." deciding not to let whatever warm feeling that stirred in her heart scare her anymore. Maybe around Peter this feeling bothered her, for it was slightly different, but this, this was one battle she realized she did not have to fight. “You have more than one person who will care for you now.” Rocket only breathed out another soft, peaceful sigh. Gamora allowed herself to be proud, _See? Peter was right, you are capable of more than just destruction._

With a careful pat on his silky ear, Gamora slipped from the engine room untold hours later, knowing full-well she could never speak of what had happened, for both her and Rocket’s sake. Hopefully he wouldn’t even know she had been there. It was one thing to accept something inside yourself, it was another to have others know it. She made her way back to her room and reemerged only when she heard Peter and Drax arguing in the kitchen.

“Ugghh Drax!” Peter lamented the blue goo on his plate, “the only thing you are destroying is my appetite!” The Destroyer frowned and helped himself to a large spoonful of the sour smelling substance.

“We make this for breakfast all the time on my home world. You humans have weak stomachs.”  Peter choked on the strange stale smelling thing. 

“How long do we plan on staying on Knowhere?” Gamora asked, pouring herself a cup of clabr. She sipped it, watching out of the corner of her eye as Rocket wandered in, carrying Groot in his pot. The raccoon’s eyes seemed brighter,

“Quill how long are we gonna be stayin’ here?” The absence of any insult spoke to a hopefully good night’s sleep.

“We’re waiting on a job!” Peter said defensively, “if we don’t hear anything by the end of the day we’ll leave.” Rocket rolled his eyes, peering over at Drax.

“Ew! Dude!! What the flark is that crap?” The Destroyer glared,

“It is called Wek Whet. It is delicious.” The raccoon creature put Groot down and reached his claw over, dipping it in Drax’s plate and taking a taste. He grimaced, then relented,

“Stuff ain’t bad.” Drax smiled, obviously happy and took a large spoonful.

“Quill do you think it’s safe to leave the ship yet?” Peter shrugged, pouring the Wek Whet back into the pot. Substituting the odd blue mixtures he too poured himself some clabr. Gamora watched him take a seat beside Drax at the circular table. 

“Yo Rocket, can I give Groot some of this clabr?” Gamora stood against the wall, 

“Peter I don’t think that’s a good idea. Doesn’t it have, what’s that thing you call it on Terra, daffine?”

“Caffeine,” he clarified. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“No Star-Butt,” you cannot give him that. Groot looked visibly disappointed while Rocket sat on Drax’s other side, scarfing down the Wek Whet.

Unbeknownst to everyone clambering around the breakfast table Groot surveyed them all. The green woman who was stern but kind, the large tattooed figure whose voice was deep but unthreatening, and Rocket. That furry, soft creature he knew from somewhere. Deep in this still-forming roots he recognized Rocket. Missed him, missed his scent and his voice but did not know from where. He had no memory of the creature. Just a name. Just knew he missed him and loved him, but no sense why or how. He looked around at Rocket and the green woman and the tattooed man, the other one who wore those curious things attached to his head on each ear had left the room.

Groot tugged at his root’s he’d been in this pot too long. Already he could feel his arm slowly growing back, light green buds sprouting from his shoulder and growing downward. Soon he’d have his arm back again. But he couldn’t just remain in his pot while so much was going on around him. He tried again, thrusting up ward and sending dirt scattering over the table. He wriggled, the pot rocking back and forth. _I am Groot,_ he thought with determination. Leaning down and grasping the pot with his good arm, he wrenched his small leg, half buried under the soil, upward. The world spun as he fell, and braced himself against the table.

“Groot?” Rocket half asked, half gasped. The little tree shook his head, looking at two wooden legs now visible with the upturned soil. Groot smiled, lifted his left leg, then precariously began to lift himself up, the tattooed alien lifted out a hand for balance which he grabbed as he hoisted himself up. 

“Well done small tree!” The tattooed alien proclaimed as Groot rose to his full-albeit-short-height. The green woman, _what was her name?_ smiled.

“Finally!” Rocket exclaimed, “this mean you’re gonna start actually growing now?”  Groot could sense the impatience in his voice. Damn right Rocket was inpatient, Groot was a liability now that he was small. Yeah it had been Star-Turd’s fault but Rocket did not sign up to parent his best friend. _I’ll do better,_ and he would. As a best friend, not as a father figure. _Flark that_. There was no one to blame but himself for what had happened, that much drenched every cybernetically enhanced molecule of his being with guilt, and yet seeing Groot stand, only several inches tall made him seethe with anger. Of course it was anger, it was always anger. Even though he stood before them now, Groot was no longer entirely himself. Rocket had come to terms with that in the bar before the fight. 

 “Groot! You stood up! What you couldn’t wait for me buddy?!” Peter crossed the communal kitchen to where Groot stood on the table, now without the help of Drax. Without warning the human picked Groot up and spun him around, laughing. “You did it!” Peter gushed. “I thought you were going to be stuck in that pot for awhile and look!” His finger lightly touched Groot’s re-growing shoulder. Rocket watched Gamora join Peter, and Drax soon after that. The three of them crowded around Groot who kicked his little legs and laughed.

“You have reached the next step in your maturity,” Drax announced over Peter’s shoulder. “You have done well! I am proud of you Kameria…” the group fell silent, Gamora lay a hand on Drax’s shoulder as he glanced down at the floor the muscles in his face twitching. Even Rocket, brooding though he was had the decency not to make a remark. Per usual, Peter broke the silence.

“Drax will be able to teach you how to fight soon!” Groot laughed as Peter spun him around once more and then placed him on the iron flooring of the Milano, though most of it had been covered with a miscellaneous array of miss-matched rugs.

“Good job Groot!” Gamora praised while the tree tottered, trying to move forward. Drax, seemingly having recovered now ran across the room and crouched.

“Come here! Come over to me Groot!” Groot took three steps and fell.

“Oh that’s okay buddy!” Peter reassured. Groot picked himself up and resumed walking. Rocket watched it all with toil. The first thing that came to his mind was: _They ain’t your friends Groot. Them babying you like that, and you going along with it. What gives man? Idiot._ But that resentful mirth was soon replaced by one far more painful as Groot managed to reach Drax and the four of them fell into praising and laughing. _It’s better this way._ Rocket slammed his bowl of Wek Whet down and stormed out to the engine room.

Groot was infantile, but Rocket continued to deny it despite his doubts while he fiddled with the prevo wires in the Milano’s engine room.  It wasn’t his old friend, maybe some of it, somewhere deep in there but not much. He’d been in denial since now. Groot wasn’t there to watch his back, wasn’t there to help him do repairs and he certainly wasn’t there to serve as a perch for Rocket to climb on. Satisfying some primal need for him to be up high or burrow into notches. When something that had been so consistent, so foundational to your existence changed so rapidly without warning, it made you realize how incredibly lost you were without it. Rocket transferred the wires from their main connectors into one of the other auxiliary ones. Sitting atop a blast-destroyer he had invented last week, the enhanced animal grabbed his paw as the electric shock from the wires pricked him. Over the buzz, Peter and Drax’s laughter reached his ears. _It’s better this way….for Groot._ He flicked his tail and pulled the wires out again in frustration. _Star-moron got caught by those ravengers for saving Gamora, Groot got himself blown up for saving all of us._ Rocket hefted his blast destroyer up into his grasp and examined the main barrel. _No sacrifice is ever repaid. It ain’t fair. But I got him blown up, so I guess it’s fair I let him alone…before there’s nothing left of him at all._ Rocket slammed retco particles into the barrel, lifted the gun, aimed and, threw it down. Body shaking with rage, but rage is brittle and it broke that dam around his core. He scurried over the junk of the engine room, reaching for his box and took out the other twigs.

“Rocket! What is your problem?” Peter demanded, storming into the engine room. “Do you know what Groot just did?”

“I don’t flarking care!” Rocket responded over his shoulder, tinkering with his work.  

“He just took his first steps and you don’t even seem like you care at all. He turned around to look for you and you weren’t there!” _Yeah, I never am, aren’t I?_ Rocket accused himself.

“They weren’t his first steps! Why do all you flarknards keep thinking these are his firsts? It’s the same Groot dammit nothing special about him! He ain’t a kid and he ain’t taken his first steps!”

“If this is about what happened on Trator Groot forgave me,” Peter defended himself. 

“Yeah?! Well **I** haven’t!”

“Rocket you’re being ridiculous! You heard him talk for the first time in that bar! How can you say that after hearing him?”  He was right, Rocket knew he was right. The enhanced mammal spun around.

“HE’S NOT A BABY! HE’S THE SAME GROOT WHAT KIDNAPPED YOU ON XANDAR! HE’S STILL MY GROOT!” Rocket’s wide frightened eyes narrowed at Peter while the two of them stared at each other.

“No one’s saying he isn’t,” Peter breathed. “It’s because he’s yours that it’s important.”  Rocket glared.

“You don’t know anything about who Groot is or who I am!” Peter’s patience with Rocket snapped. He’d saved the galaxy with this creature! They’d been through so much, Peter had saved Rocket when he pulled him from the wreck of that Nova ship and vice versa when he had broken them out of the Klyn. After all that Rocket still couldn’t see that they were a family? Heat rose in his cheeks. Rocket’s attitude was unfair towards all of them, especially to Groot. 

“I know that Rocket isn’t even your name is it?” Peter  exploded, “it’s Subject 89P13 and Groot is the only one who’s ever cared at all, he’s the only one who puts up with your bullshit and now after he sacrificed himself for all of us, for you, you hardly ever look at him or give him the time of day!” All that fierceness, all that rage drained in a single moment. The enhanced raccoon felt it spill out of his head and heart and down his little body. Peter blinked, arms unfolding in realization.

“So the truth comes out?” Rocket asked incredulously. “Is that all I am to you? After all this time a suject?” Peter dared come closer,

“No, of course not…I…I’m sorry Rocket…but…” Like a failsafe that hot red anger flooded back into the mammal, he reached for a wrench and threw it at Peter with all the might he could muster.

“…‘Rocket’ is all I have left of anything!!!!” Peter stumbled to the side, watching the wrench go a few more feet before clattering against a pipe and falling with a thud. “Now that Groot is….ain’t my partner anymore…guilt…” wetness pricked behind Rocket’s eyes once more. He watched Peter’s expectant face.

“Guilty!?” Peter’s arms flew out to his side as he leaned over Rocket, “Is this what this is about? You fee guilty that Groot’s a baby now?” He huffed for breath, “that you crashed that ship into the Dark Astar?” Rocket too wheezed for air, the tears obstructing Peter’s disapproving face. The noise of the engine seemed to build around them. “You don’t think I feel guilty? I’m the one that asked you guys to go on that suicide mission in the first place!” Peter’s fists clenched, eyes earching for anything but Rocket. “You don’t think I feel guilty?” He repeated. “Every damn time I see Groot it gets me. I asked him, like I asked all of you to help me stop Ronnan and Groot was the only one of us who had to die. He was the only one who should’ve lived….” Rocket couldn’t argue with that but still he fumed, feeling the tears begin to creep down his face. A small part of him felt ashamed, but he was too angry to pay that much mind. _Die, so someone finally said it._

“Oh shut up!” Rocket managed, “that’s not on you, that’s on me! I flew that damn Nova ship into the Dark Astar. He wouldn’t have had to do what he did if it hadn’t been for me.” 

“Gamora, Drax, they all feel responsible in their own way. That’s why they want to help raise Groot now. Do it right.” Rocket reached a paw up, wiping his eyes.

“Get out.”

“Rocket man c’mon! Groot needs you!” 

“Groot don’t need me no more! He’s got his brand-new family! Get out Star-Shit!”

“Rocket!” Peter looked down at the small animal, tears running down it’s muzzle and fire in its eyes.

“What you callin’ me Rocket for?” He jabbed, “as you said, that’s not even my really name! Now get out before I blow your brains out!” For emphasis, he hoisted his star-blaster up and took aim.

“Fine!” Peter backed away, Rocket lowered his weapon only after he heard the storming foot falls drift off.   


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drax thanks Rocket for something. Rocket comes to a terrible realization that isn't all to shocking, at least for everyone else.

“I am Groot,” Groot made his way down the main corridor of the Milano, his steps becoming more confidant with every passing day. That was about the only positive thing happening on the ship as far as Drax could tell. Both Rocket and Peter walked in circles around each other, neither one of them speaking to the other. Gamora seemed neutral though based on the overheard conversations with Peter, things were not going to get repaired between Rocket and Peter anytime soon, not even for Groot’s sake.

“You called him what?!” Gamora followed Peter into the common room the next evening. Drax hadn’t seen Rocket all day but the periodic lights flickering and small explosive noises from below told him the animal was busy working.

“I know, I know, I didn’t mean it! It was out of my mouth before I could take it back.” Peter flopped down on the stolen couch. “But he keeps making fun of me too and it’s really pissing me off.” 

“That’s no excuse, you have to be the better person!” Gamora implored. 

“You sound like my mom,” Peter grumbled, shaking his head. Drax watched Gamora look at him, he shrugged and she took a seat next to Peter.

“Someone has to!" Gamora's tenner rose with anger, cut off as Groot shortly appeared in the room, making his way to Peter and smacking at his pant leg with both arms. He had since regrown the broken one.

“Groot, go bother Rocket, please?”

“I am Groot!” The baby, well now toddler shouted, growing a small vine and slapping Peter across the knee in a tantrum. He gave up eventually and Drax watched him go down the hall, babbling to himself as he did so.

“Rocket just…he just doesn’t get it.” Peter resumed, “he’s a part of this family now and he’s got help with raising Groot but all he does is insult us and yell at us.”

“He is not friendly,” Drax put in. “The rodent does not show basic curtesy to anyone.”

“What was it Rocket said to you?” Gamora asked, “about him and Groot being partners?”

“he said, ‘Rocket is all I have left of anything,’” Peter repeated disheartened, “’now that Groot and I aren’t partners.’ Then he threatened to blow my brains out but no one’s remembering that part!” Peter complained, scratching his head. Personally Drax was glad that Groot was a toddler now, that meant he was clearly irrevocably the strongest and largest one on the team. Of course he did feel badly that Groot had to die. He’d seen that grief within Rocket that day. The shock and pain. He’d felt it too. As the they sat on the couch Drax wrung his hands together.

“The old Groot is gone and Rocket is upset about this,” he thought aloud. “He does not feel that this Groot is his partner anymore because we are a family and now Groot has all of us. He no longer needs Rocket exclusively. But Rocket still needs him.” Drax look at the two of them who stared, surprised. “This is painful for him to realize. It makes him feel vulnerable. On top of that he still blames himself for all of it. And he misses the old Groot.”

“Yeah, but…”

“He is insulting you because it is easier then feeling those other emotions.” Drax took a deep breath, preparing himself, “…when Hovat and Kameria were killed, I too smothered my pain with anger. I did not have a family any more. Or friends. But if I had, I too would have lashed out in anger.” Gamora nodded silently. “You called him Subject 89P13,” Peter winced. “This was wrong.” Drax continued, “it is also wrong of him to insult your name. It is dishonorable especially when we are working together.” Working together, that was something he had never said aloud before. Drax was used to a solidary existence ever since his family was murdered. He depended on no one and no one depended on him, until now. Ever since they destroyed Ronnan, and seeing Groot slowly grow and relay on them had made the aspect of  familial teamwork all the clearer.

“Well,” Peter groped for some sort of response. “He just….forget it,” he stood, shaking Gamora off and going up to the pilot deck. Drax watched him, shaking his head. 

“Peter, Drax is right,” Gamora began taking off after him. The ship’s omnipresent engine suddenly ceased, the Destroyer felt the Milano grind to a stand-still and involuntarily held his breath. 

“Flark it Groot!” Came Rocket’s incessant shouting. The large man felt the ship slowly bend sideways, though luckily Rocket had long since bolted things like the community table, chairs and other furniture to the floor. The dishes were not as lucky. Jumping for them, Drax caught three plates just as the Milano listlessly continued to go slanting left.

The tattooed alien fell to the floor off balanced and watched as the cabinet doors flung open, sending their array of miss-matched dishes, mugs and bowls come clattering down. 

“Groot! No! Gimme that!” Rocket’s urgency escalated. Drax gripped onto the table leg, heaving himself upward, gripping whatever he could to get to the engine room below.

“Rocket!!” Peter’s accusatory yelling echoed down the halls, “I can’t pilot this thing without the engine and the stabilizers! I know your pissed at me but this isn’t funny!”

“Not my fault Star-Bitch! Groot! Don’t!” Drax blinked, halting as the Milano’s lights flickered and went out.

“Rodent, you must control the tree before he destroys us all!” Clumsily feeling his way down the ladders to the engine room he went, eyes struggling to see in the pitch dark. Meanwhile the ship now tilted to the right, sending him off-kilter and fumbling for a grip on the metal rails.

“Groot give that to me right now,” he could hear the vermin ordering.

“I am Groot!” 

“It’s not a toy! The entire damn ship is going to be pulled into the nearest moon’s orbit and stuck there!” Scratching and clanging of feet over metal sounded throughout as Drax made his way forward.

“I am Groot!” 

“C’mon!” An exasperated Rocket now resorted to pleading, “I need that! Give it to me now or I’ll put you in another time out,” Drax reached out ahead of him, hands finding the metal doorway of the engine room and he stepped inside, throwing his weight as the ship curved to the right.  “Tsch! Groot you’re not a damn baby c’mon!” Drax took a step

“Eeek!” He lifted his foot at the sound of Groot shrilling under his boot. He let-up and felt the small plant slapping at his ankles. Without missing a beat the Destroyer stooped down, picking up the little plant. Something hard and metal hit his arm without much impact.

“Good Drax!” Rocket shuffled over, “grab that krutukan desxter from him! He pulled it off!” The raccoon went back to whatever he’d been working on and there were several flashes of white-blue electricity before the power came back on. Groot’s hardened face became all the more sour, large eyes narrowing and putting his chin into a pout. But Drax grinned, Kameria would often pull such a look when she was deprived something she wanted.

“Groot how about this?” He offered reaching to his boot and pulling one of his knives. “If you hand me that desxter, you can play with this. How’s that?” Groot frowned and let out a yelp as Drax stumbled while the Milano rocked again. The little tree only hit Drax with his vines. Drax grinned, _Kameria never relented either._  He switched tactics,

“Fine, it is probably too dangerous for you anyway.” He put his knife back in his boot and placed Groot on the ground. 

“What are you doing?” Rocket gasped, paws wracking his own face in anxiety

“I know what’ I’m doing,” Drax said through gritted teeth. He turned on his heel and turned to walk away. Sure enough Groot dropped the desxter and ran after Drax, reaching for his boot wound his little vines around its hilt. The Destroyer did nothing, watching him run down the hall as best as he could on the angle the Milano was drifting.

“Thank you!” Rocket growled, irritated. He picked up with device and made his way back to the engine. He watched the creature fiddle with the engine. Clapping his large hands to his ears as the ship groaned, only to slide back into its original trajectory. Rocket wiped his filthy hands with a rag and shook his head as Peter and Gamora came down, 

“What was that?” Peter demanded

“It was Groot!” Rocket retorted, Drax watched the two of them stare at each other in contempt.

“Well its fixed now,” Gamora said, bringing snapping the two of them back to reality.  Peter forced his gaze away from the animal and back to the group. Groot rejoined them evident by the clanging of the knife against some strange gun lying on the ground.

“Groot no! Don’t touch that!” Rocket rushed to the weapon on the floor and scooped up the gun with as much care as one would a child. “That’s a prototype for a new gun I’m designing!” He said, hefting the weapon. 

“How’s it working so far?” Peter asked innocently. Rocket glared at him,

“It’s working fantastic Star-…Peter,” he faltered.

“That’s…great!” The human recovered. _It seems small to me,_ Drax thought personally but he did notice the awkward exchange between the two of them. Peter even smiled, Rocket turned back to his gun as Groot let out an erroneous scream at being parted with the new-found plaything. 

“Smaller Groot,” Drax knelt down to the tree’s level, “you cannot play with this weapon. You can play with other weapons.” He once again pulled his knife from his boot. “Here. Just be careful with it.” Groot held the knife with fascination, looking it over before growing his vines out as far as he could and went running down the hallway clanking the blade against the walls.

Meanwhile Peter looked over the gun and threw it back,

“It uhh, looks good Rocket. Seems really…bad-ass.” The enhanced raccoon just fiddled with it some more.

“Well Drax’s knives should keep him entertained for a bit so there shouldn’t be any more interruptions.”

“Thank you,” Gamora put in. She stared at Rocket awkwardly for a moment, opened her mouth, closed it, and left the engine room. Peter made some other idiotic excuse and shortly left as well. Rocket leaned over his gun with even more intensity. Drilling into the main body of the weapon to better lubricate the inner workings.

“Rocket.” Drax stated, the creature looked up, glaring. “I wanted to thank….you,” he began gently.

“Psshh, for what?” He snapped. Drax watched Groot scamper down the hall once more, trip on the floor, and make that face he knew all too well. Quickly he helped the little tree up,

“Cease your crying. You have not been wounded.” Saying such, he picked Groot up and gently took the knife back from him.

“I am Groot!” 

“Yeah well playtime’s over bud.” Groot scowled. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he began again. “After Kameria was killed, I had not thought I would ever get the chance to care for another little one.” Rocket’s glare softened by just a degree. “Now, I can once again care for something…instead of only fighting.” Rocket nodded, putting his weapon down. 

“If I had it my way he’d be his full size already.” Drax nodded but made no reply for some time. 

“I know,” he finally whispered and gently lay his large hand on Rocket’s shoulder. The creature let him, his mind flashing back to that same touch earlier right after….right after Xandar. When Rocket had been so small and shocked and broken. Peter was right, Groot had been the only one who had ever cared for him, up until now. _They are your family, they care about you._ He’d reminded himself of the guardians, but for the majority of his life “they” had been those strange scientists who poked him and stung him, locked him and twisted him. 

“I am Groot?” 

“That’s Drax, Drax the Destroyer,” Rocket explained and in that instant, everything became clear. His breath hitched in his chest, realizing.

 _Groot is dead….he's been dead for months._ Rocket’s stomach welled with bile at the thought, his vision suddenly swimming.  Groot’s first words to him had not necessarily come with memories attached. Groot, his Groot, was really, truly and totally gone. Forever.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Guardians get into trouble again. Rocket wrestles with his realization. Baby Groot saves Rocket with three little words.

Parenting Groot was something that came naturally to Drax, Peter, while he had to learn, came to it soon enough and even did a halfway decent job. Gamora tried in her own way, looking after him with equal measure of sternness and gentility. It did not come to Rocket at all. Many a times he would see Groot out of the corner of his eye, his large expectant gaze and would wander closer, one step at a time before someone, (usually Drax) would pick him up and escort him, protesting from the vicinity. After a long night of drinking, of staring at those inanimate twigs in his box, Rocket volleyed back and forth between trying to make the best of it, grieving for his best friend while raising this new version of him with the care and devotion he deserved and between letting that grief it consume him. His blindness, his will full ignorance, his cruelty to Groot when he had been alive, all of it. Nightmares continued to beset him even as he was awake and working. For the first time in his short life, Rocket did not fight them. He picked up the reactor in one hand and plugged it into the isolator, electricity vaulted through his hands, as he closed his eyes against the burning sting images of those odd people in the odd masks looked down upon him.

Sometimes they were people, sometimes they were just entities. Rocket shook his hand out, opening his eyes once more to the reality of the churning engine. He tried the plug in again, this time making sure to attach a new head to the wires first. Between blinks his thoughts sent him back to that laboratory where they strapped him down and cut into him. Rocket shook his head, focusing on making the connection into the isolator. It worked with a fizz and a whirr and he forced himself to smile at his work. But the ever-moving engine seemed to whisper to him.

“Rocket is ready for the procedure sir,” said a female voice. _Gamora?_ Rocket’s mind wondered, even as he searched around through boxes and cases of machine parts. In his thoughts, he could hazily recognize her voice. Another scientist shook his head, knife in his hand.

“Not Rocket. Rocket isn’t even his real name.” The doctor smiled and while his eyes were examining the remints of an engine from a transport ship they had plundered, Rocket could see plain as day the scientist with the dirty blonde hair, _Star-Stupid._ “Subject 89P13.” The raccoon like creature dropped the tools in his hands, stomach falling to his feet. With that Peter brought the knife down and Rocket, who had nothing left in him if he didn’t have Groot, lay there in his own mind, ready and waiting. People talked about seeing a light when they died. Rocket hoped beyond all hope that if and when he saw that light, that it would be the small, yellow, glowing lights of Groot’s spores.

“Please,” he begged aloud as he worked. “Please, mercy. I know I’ve been rotten but _…”_ He grabbed a wrench lying on the floor and attempted to pry the knob of the transport engine open. ”I just want to see Groot’s spores of light…that’s all I want…” he was denied. Cursing aloud as the knob snapped off and broke with all the force he’d wrenched upon it.

“I am Groot!” Rocket’s ears pricked up, for one hopeful second he turned. Expecting to see his fully-formed friend crouched over and smiling at him. On instinct he looked upward over his head,

“Oh,” he said dully. Groot only cocked his head confused. “It’s you.” Rocket said flatly, he shrugged, wiping the sweat from his fur and looked as little Groot stared up at him. _Can he…can he see me?_  

“I am Groot?”

“What you lookin’ at me like that for?” He demanded through gritted teeth. Groot only blinked, slowly twirling the little leaf that had grown out of his now-healed arm.

“I am Groot,” the flora colossus pointed out. Rocket picked up the wrench he’d dropped, clutching it tight to direct his misguided aggressive impulse.

“I ain’t!” He snapped, “it’s just that you ain’t….you ain’t _you_ anymore flark it!”

“I am Groot?” The little thing cocked his head curiously.

“Yo Rocket! You got that isolator fixed yet?” Star-b*tch shouted from the cock-pit.

“Of course I fixed it!”

“Good cuz’ wer’re gonna need it, we gotta couple of Gundarian rouges on our tail!” _Flark it._ Rocket started towards the cock-pit before Groot could follow him.

“A’right then I’m comin’.” He hollard back climbing up the latter. It only occurred to him after the exchange that this was these were the first non-hostile words he and Star-Ass had exchanged since their fight. 

“They must have spotted you at the bar while you were busy,”

“Fighting for my life!” Peter interrupted Gamora when Rocket entered, closely followed by Groot who tried to reach his vines out towards the enhanced creature. Rocket’s tail flicked them away as he climbed up into the co-pilot seat.

“Well no matter what you were doing they followed us.”  Peter opened his mouth for some smug retort but the pinging flash of bullets against the ship cut him off. They rolled to the left, only to see a Gunarian ship. 

“Aww Flark, they’re R900’s” Rocket identified.

“What is what?” Peter asked, dodging another round of fire. 

“Those ships Star-Dork,” Rocket began to pound out controls on his pad before the Milano bumped violently.  Groot let out a pathetic yelp as the ship careened away from more fire. A twinge of sympathy rang deep in Rocket’s chest for the little flora colossus but he shoved it aside and quickly fired the Milano’s rear rapid-fire guns. One under each wing to perfectly target enemies from behind. Designed and installed by his own hands.

“Rocket fire!” Gamora ordered as Peter quickly swung the ship around an asteroid. Grade-A 95 caliber Esanzo bullets exploded around them. 

“Yah don’t need to tell me twice!” Rocket reveled in the adrenaline rush that came from firing back some rounds of his own. No one called you a rodent when you could blast their head fifty jumps away off their shoulders. You didn’t seem as small when you had such big weapons. Rocket had learned long ago to substitute fear and terror for respect and acceptance. _Until Groot,_ he let loose another round, watching through his comm consul as his bullets struck the two Gunarian ships behind them.

“This ship is slow,” Drax observed begrudgingly. As if in retort the Milano flipped, the lights flashed, then blinked off and Rocket bit his tongue as he felt them plummet several feet. Eyes flashing to his consul, _Flark nuts,_ the Gunarian’s had managed to take out the end of the Milano’s right wing, and Rocket’s rear gun attached to it now spun through space firing the last of its rounds at random. The ship leaned to the right, Groot squeaked, trying to grow his vines out to latch on to the nearest grounded object. Drax caught him in one hand putting him protectively against his chest.

“Peter we have to land!” Gamora shouted, she’d caught herself against the far wall of the cock-pit. Light flashed off the Milano as the bullets hit the exterior like the pitter patter of rain.

“Where?!” Peter frantically steered the ship to the left trying to balance it out as he whirled the Milano around another asteroid. Rocket clenched his teeth, firing off the remaining rear gun. If Groot were his full size, he could take over while Rocket tried to rig up a second gun. Humoring the thought Rocket spared a glance over his shoulder to see Groot, eyes wildly darting back and forth with every bullet against the ship. He trembled, trying to grow his vines out to hold on. Drax evidently had let him go and was attempting to pull himself upright. _Groot needs you,_ Rocket knew it but turned back to return fire. Peter thrusted the ship upward with remaining wing, over another large asteroid.

“Alert, alert, alert,” the alarm blared. Rocket’s heart hammered, ears flicked back and fur on end. _Where was Groot?!_ He searched around for him, he needed to perch up on the big guy’s shoulders. Some primal need within him screamed at him to get up high, to be off the ground nestled away from danger. Panic and longing like waves crashed into each other through his stomach as he looked again at Groot. Only to see the small flora colossus petrified. _No relief to be found there anymore_ the fangs of that fact bit into Rocket harder then he could imagine. Channeling the pain, he punched out more rounds on the rival ships. Letting the bangs over power his own inner screaming.

“Wvax is closest,” Gamora craned her neck over the chair she’d climbed to. “It’s only two jumps.” The ship shuttered, swinging to the side, slowly losing altitude while the Gunasian’s fired once more,

“Alert, altert, alert,” the cabin flashed with red light.

“Flark! Right engine’s hit!” Rocket growled. Groot yelped again as the glass cracked on the windows. 

“Alert, alert, alert.” The urgent red light flashed.

“Hold on to something!” Peter called as they hurled through the first jump. The Milano swerved and swiveled with a stomach tilting jerk as it went through the jump. Groot screamed, sliding down the floor towards the stair-well. Gamora huffed, buckling her seat-belt once more and turned to frantically punched her own consul trying to see if the Gunarian ship had followed them. Drax held on to the overhead pipes of the ship, shouting at Peter who ignored him and was attempting to steet the Milano straight though it continued to glide downward.

“Groot you idiot! Flark it!” _If Groot were grown he could be operating these controls right now!_  If Groot were grown, if he hadn’t…hadn’t sacrificed himself and died…then they wouldn’t even be in this situation. Groot got hurt on Trator because Rocket had not intervened soon enough, _you said you’d do better, Groot said forever._ After he had saved him, from those retrieval teams from Halfworld. When Rocket was just learning of the world outside his cage, sick and realizing that freedom was not as sweet as he had dreamed. Groot, in all his gentle sweetness had taken them all down as Rocket, unarmed, watched from his shoulders. How many pieces of bark had been lost? Groot had taken at least a hundred hits for Rocket in their partnership, one hundred too many. Rocket watched while his brand new….ally? took down the retrieval crew with nothing but his whipping vines and pointed thorns, grown out from him in place of leaves. When it was over, Rocket remembered how he’d been grazed by one of the laser rifles across the side. Groot’s worried eyes, he remembered Groot holding him tightly and growing a cocoon around the two of them like he had done on the Dark Aster.

“Second jump coming up!” Peter’s voice broke through Rocket’s thoughts. More artillery sounded an the Milano buckled banking lower, Groot screamed as they were hurled downward.

“Groot!”

“Alert, alert, alert,” the lights flashed and Rocket unfastened himself from the seat, diving for the little tree. There was a sickening drop and the enhanced creature wound his body around Groot, the same way he recalled Groot doing for him so long ago.

“I am Groot,” Rocket could still hear it now.

“Don’t be sorry, bud.” The first time Rocket called him that. “You…you saved my life…” he didn’t think his life was worth saving. What life did a weaponized experiment have? A scientific creation, a monstrosity. Groot grew green leaves over his wound and looked at Rocket, those small yellow spores glowing all around them. In this shelter, Rocket forgot the dark dirty alley way they had been fighting in.

With the second jump the Milano was in Wvax’s atmosphere only one more Gunarian ship followed them. With relief Rocket felt this Groot’s hands wind through his fur, clutching it. 

“Rocket damn it where are you?! We need you up here shooting them!” Peter hollered over his shoulder. _I’m right where I need to be,_ Rocket knew looking down at this Groot who’s eyes were squeezed shut. Rocket had been the one in fear when Groot held him on that backwater planet.

“What are we gonna do Groot?” He’d whispered, his own mind still living in the fog of what had been done to them. His side ached with pain despite Groot’s best efforts.

“I am Groot,” the flora colossus reassured, slowly pulling Rocket against his chest. The first time in his strange existence that Rocket did not resist touch, the first time he had felt affection in those wooden arms, so stable and secure. “I am Groot.” Rocket collapsed in that embrace, allowing himself to let tears of exhaustion run down his face. Now he watched little Groot try to burry himself in his fur as far as possible. The ship landed with a lurching crash.

“I got you bud,” Rocket whispered, a small fragile warmth budding in his heart for the first time since the day Groot had looked into Rocket’s broken damaged, blackened soul and spoke those three words, only this time beginning with “We.” It somehow healed him and shredded him apart simultaneously.

“There you are!” Gamora stormed down the stairs, “one of those ships followed us! If you had stayed at your station and shot them down like you were supposed to they wouldn’t have….” She stopped short, eyes widening while Rocket uncurled himself. Baby Groot stood up, shaking his little head, dried sap tears still staining his face. Gamora knelt, her face softening, “Groot, you okay?” The little tree like creature nodded.

 “Did we lose them?” Drax asked, a crash from above was their answer as Rocket, Groot, Gamora and Drax rushed back up to the cock-pit watching the ship smash into the rocks of Wvax’s famous purple canyons.

“Guess not.” Peter finally sighed.

“I got you,” Rocket whispered once more, taking Groot up and putting him on his shoulders. He suppressed a smirk at the thought, _oh how the tables have changed and it flarking sucks._

Luckily the right wing tip that had been shot off was a clean shot and Rocket was able to easily salvage parts from the Gunarian ship to fix the wing. With this much time to repair the wing and the engine, and the last of his booze already drunk several days ago, Rocket was forced to do the fixing, and inevitably mull over Baby Groot’s upbringing and old Groot’s death completely, utterly, miserably sober.

“I am Groot!” Groot waddled over to him on the second day.

Drax followed close behind him,

“Smaller Groot. Let Rocket finish fixing the ship.” Rocket shoved a metal panel on to the underside of the wing.

“S’alright,” he said without looking. “He can stay.” Drax nodded, walking off to join Quill making some Sleverat stew over the fire. “Hey Groot hand me that socket wrench,” Rocket said automatically. He moved on to the next panel and tilted it into place, “Groot! The wrench,” he looked down to see Groot staring blankly at the array of tools scattered about the ground. Crestfallen Rocket swallowed the reminder of his friend’s loss and his irritation at this new version of his friend. _It’s not his fault….it’s mine._ Or maybe as Star-Turd said, it was everyone’s fault. “That’ the wrench,” Rocket gestured with his tail since he couldn’t free his hands. Groot blinked and finally stood, picking up a hammer. “Flark it! No, the wrench look, I’m pointing at it.” Rocket momentarily shook his foot in the direction of the wrench. Groot nodded in earnest and came over, little hands gladly grasping at Rocket’s foot. “No!” Letting loose a string of profanities he put the panel down and walked over to the wrench. “This, this one is the wrench Groot.”

“I am Groot,” Rocket forced himself to smile. 

“Good!” Here began, “re-teach-everything-Groot-had forgotten- lessons. Starting with Rocket’s tools, different parts of weapons and bombs. Once the engine was repaired  and the they were able to take off once more, Rocket sat in the engine room with Groot. 

“I am Groot,” Rocket looked up from his work. 

“You want to know what?” Groot kicked his little feet from his place on a deactivated bomb.

“Everything? That’s gonna take a while idiot.” Rocket stopped, looking up at Groot, the significance of that word…. both insulting and yet it had long since turned into something more affectionate dawned on him. He laughed despite himself.  _Was it even possible? No matter what I tell him, it won’t ever be the same._ Kurtuk it, navigating complex emotions was so much harder to do sober. It wasn’t fair. 

“I am Groot,” the little tree suggested.

“Fair enough bud,” Rocket sighed and began with Groot’s beginning as Groot had told him once upon a time. In telling Groot, this Groot, the story of himself and eventually the two of them, Rocket found it easier the longer he continued to talk. He forced himself to discuss Halfworld and how they’d met. _What would old Groot do?_ Rocket asked himself every time he hit a part of their story that was difficult. _He sure as shark wouldn’t sugar coat it that’s what._

“I am Groot?”  Rocket’s hands tinkered away as he talked. 

“Yeah, experimentation. I’m not like you bud,” Rocket breathed. “I wasn’t grown from the vines of my elders. I don’t have no World Pod. I…I’m a monster…” Rocket whispered, the dull constant pang of his cybernetic enhancements grated against him and he felt wetness press against his eyes. He looked up, a thin wooden caress gently swept along his cheek wiping away the tear. Like the last thing Groot had done for him before they crashed. The memory only made more tears fall. Little Groot slowly climbed on Rocket’s knee, looking into him with an innocence Rocket never had. Slowly, Baby Groot spoke but Rocket could hear his old friend’s voice in the words sure as day. Could feel older Groot in that simple stroke of vine.

“You. Are. Groot.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter must make things right. Gamora asks a painful question. Rocket sings a song.

Some days are harder than others. After the Milano was repaired they set course for the fourth quadrant, there were bound to be jobs there. Peter and Rocket continued to dance in apprehensive circles around each other, which left Gamora and Drax to most of the chore of looking after Groot.

“You’re going to make yourself sick!” Gamora exclaimed, Groot only stuffed the candied Torlo into his little mouth and furrowed his brow. “Groot! Hand it over!” She reprimanded, hand going instinctively to her sword hilt.

“I am Groot!”

“Now!” Her patience wavered, “or you are getting another time out.” Groot let loose a vine and smacked down a row of canned food in the kitchen. Rocket heard them clatter to the ground, followed shortly by Gamora’s exasperated cry of fury. “That’s it! Your going in time out!” She dived for him, reaching out just as the flora colossus made to run out of the kitchen and tripped on the step. She grabbed for him, hands closing tightly around his little body. He cried out, mouth stuffed with candy and berated her with his vines.

“What’d he do now Gams?” Rocket ran a paw over his eyes. It had been a few rough nights of putting up with Groot’s sleeping schedule. Despite their best efforts to establish a consistant napping time on the ship, it was hard to do with the ever changing lights of planets, asteroid belts and other phenomena that illuminated the Milano’s windows as they traveled.

“I’ve had it with him!” Gamora yelled, “He’s a brat Rocket!”

“Why’re you yelling at me about it?” He shot back, watching her struggle to contain he enraged sapling. “It ain’t my fault!” Gamora did not answer but her boots echoed as they slammed down the stairs to the engine room. Rocket shook his head, today was a harder day. He was trying best he could to come to terms with the fact that his best friend was gone, that there was a tiny infantile, bratty little tree in his place. Where companionship, assurance, and stability had once been, even amidst all the chaos of his life, there was now more responsibility, anxiety and grief. Grief over loosing Groot, grief that he now had to fill in the gaps for this new Groot.

There were so many gaps. Rocket told him of how the two of them escaped Halfworld, how Groot had once saved his life when he was wounded after the retrieval team from the lab came after them, told him how Groot has saved his life again and again. Rocket had to tell him about the night he got so drunk he almost sold Groot to some weirdo Ecav woman who wanted to take Groot apart for money on the black market, this being one of his more shameful memories. There were so many gaps.

“What are we going to do with him?” Gamora asked, coming back and slumping into a cushion beside Rocket in the common area. The enhanced creature shrugged, adjusting the modules on a new tarbuline bomb he was designing for deep space usage.

“How would I flarkin know Gams?” He quipped, “I’m trying okay?!” He was surprised to see her nod, she sat up and wrung her hands together on the table. 

“I know. We all are. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever.” They fell into a comfortable silence. For once it seemed like the Milano was flying without needing any repairs. Somewhere in his own quarters Rocket could hear Drax practicing with his knives. This was evident by a great deal of shouting and triumphant laughter.

“Hey Gams,” Rocket began slowly, thinking about what Drax had said to him earlier. She looked up from her own thoughts. “…thanks,” he forced out, scrutinizing the tarbuline bomb, too flarking afraid to meet her eyes.

“For what?” 

“You know,” he didn’t want to say it. Saying it would admit how much he enjoyed it, needed it, that comfort. It would solidify his vulnerability, his weakness. He thought of Groot, the one who was now…dead…and those two remaining sticks that he held in his hands in the late hours of the evening. Groot was a walking vulnerability in and of himself and yet, and yet he was the strongest person Rocket knew. “For…a few nights ago when…” Gamora watched Rocket toil within himself, trying to force the words out between who knew how many inner debates. The look on his face was pained, she knew exhaustion, both physical and emotional. There was no sense in making him continue that which was clearly difficult for him to say. Gamora supposed he’d had enough of a hard time these past few weeks. 

“Your welcome Rocket.” She watched him glance up at her, eyes squinting at her as if trying to discern if her words were true. He shrugged after a moment, going back to his work. Gamora waited, listening. No more shouting yells from Groot. She stood, going to the engine room to find Groot skulking in the corner. He sat in Rocket’s own bed, little arms crossed.  

“Groot?” She weighted the approach even as she knelt down by him. Whenever she misbehaved as a child, Thanos would lock her in that dark room for days on end. No food, no water, no one to talk to. If she were especially bad he’d just have one of his goons shock her through her own cybernetics. No lessons, no explaining what she had done wrong.

 Thanos taught her nothing but violence and transgression. Groot looked at her, glaring and she felt a stone drop in her chest. The Groot who had saved them all had such large, loving eyes. Sure he’d technically disobeyed Rocket in the Kyln and took the large battery in the prison but even Rocket hadn’t punished him for that.

“Groot,” she tried. “you cannot just eat candy, you can’t just take people’s weapons or clothes and hide them around the ship.” He only looked at her blankly. “Groot?” She snapped, “do you understand me?” 

“I am Groot!” He yelled, uncurling himself and standing. Gamora didn’t need to totally understand what he had said in order to get the message.  That’s it! She thought, that spark of anger flared within her, old habits die hard. She reached for her sword, unsheathing it though she did not point it towards him. 

“You cannot continue to disobey us!” She roared, quelling him to shrink back. As Thanos had done uncountable times.

“I am Groot!”  He shrank back, one arm bracing, growing protective little thorns from his vines. Gamora’s rage cleared,

“Groot,” she breathed, putting her sword back. “Groot, I’m sorry…” He peeked out from under his covering, waiting. Gamora swallowed the urge to curse herself. So Thanos’s influence over her was not yet gone. “Groot I’m so sorry,” she whispered. The little tree slowly creeped closer and she opened the palm of her hand to him to crawl into. The weight of his ability to forgive, and her own impulse to violence filled her head with darkness and shame. How? After all this, time even after she had been able to soothe Rocket, she just as easily gave into anger. 

“I am Groot,” Groot said softly as they made their way back to the common area. Gamora set him down on the table with Rocket.

“You mind havin’ a word with Star-wimp about getting us another job?” Rocket grumbled, “I’m gonna need more zygin bolts if I’m ever gonna get this kurtukan thing to work.” 

“The fourth quadrant has over three hundred and sixty-three planets,” Gamora reasoned, reaching for a pot in the kitchen and boiling water. Fravarian tea did wonders to soothe aching muscles after a good sparing session. “At least two hundred and seventy five of them are bound to hire us for some job,” she sat down again beside them. “Even if it’s something low-profile.” Rocket didn’t seem convinced but he shut his mouth and continued to work. Groot handed him things as he asked for them. She watched, pouring the water when it was ready and smelling the fruit like aroma of the tea. 

“Rocket can I ask you something?” Gamora had been putting it off, it wouldn’t be appropriate to ask for a while. But given what she had just done, she felt she needed to know. The enhanced creature did not make a smart remark or walk away so she took it as a signal to continue. She took a sip from her tea. Making sure that the tarbuline bomb was still un-operational.

“When Groot….when he said ‘we are Groot,’ what…what did he mean?” Even as she finished she put a hand to her sword hold just in case. Rocket’s ear twitched. He looked at Groot, who slid down the table, babbling something incoherently. The enhanced mammal put down his tools, she watched him take a deep breath. But he didn’t leave or more remarkably, didn't shoot her. “He said we are Groot. That’s what he meant.” Little Groot himself was over in the kitchen, experimentally inspecting the cooling water Gamora had boiled.  Rocket turned and she watched his chest fill with something that was probably a mixture of relief and sadness. “Please,” he moved his gaze down to the floor. “Don’t ask me what it meant….I don't know." He admitted, "and even if I did...I gotta keep those words to myself....” 

“I understand,” Rocket’s ears flicked back and he glared at her, “No yah don’t. None of you do.”

“Rocket I’m sorry, I should’ve asked.” He got up, hefting the bomb and walking taking Groot with him.

“Yeah I’m sorry too,” he huffed, storming away. She watched him go, shaking her head. This close, he seemed to be doing better. Until he didn’t. Gamora made her way to the cock-pit, hand resting on the back of Peter’s chair.

“How long has it been?”

“Since we had a job?” Peter asked, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at seeing her. “Too long. I think our best shot is to head straight for Yulenn, one of the cities there is a frequent smuggling port for ravagers. We offer them a slightly lower price to transport any of their goods, I’m sure we can work out some sort of deal.”

“Since you apologized to Rocket.” Gamora clarified, she slid an arm around his shoulder.

“I’m not apologizing to him! It’s him who is being ridiculous!” The assassin woman rolled her eyes,

“Oh get over yourself Peter! Don’t you get it?” She turned around to face him, “this isn’t about you, it’s not even all about Rocket, it’s about Groot.” Peter pushed the auto-pilot and Gamora leaned against the consul, arms crossed. “It’s about Groot,” Gamora huffed, watching Peter’s gaze. “What you said to Rocket, what you called him, truly hurt him. He is struggling to take care of Groot,” we all are, she thought internally. But one look at Peter’s consideration made her get straight to the point. “You have to apologize to Rocket for Groot’s sake, so that Rocket can take better are of him. He is going through enough without agonizing over what you called him.”

Peter nodded, looking up at her.

“Fine,” he finally said. “For Groot, I owe Groot that.”

“We all owe him,” she said as he unbuckled. Peter nodded, “your right.”

“Rocket?” Peter crept into the storage unit of the Milano where he was sure he heard the creature rummaging around. He spotted the raccoon like animal rummaging through the storage bay, on all fours, up on the top shelf rummaging through a box. Wires and cables tumbled down while Rocket threw them down, crashing to the floor. “Rocket can I talk to you?”

“I am Groot!” The flora colossus grew his vines out to the opposite side of the room and swung across, lauging before landing and running towards Peter. 

“Hey there buddy,” Peter smiled at him. Groot climbed up his pant leg until he rested on his shoulder.

“Rocket, you got a minute?” The animal in question only continued to ransack the box, pulling out cords and motors and who knew what sort of machinery. He stepped closer, tilting his head at the right angel the metal implants just below Rocket’s collar-bones gleamed against the brown fur. 

“This better be about a new job Star-Freak.” The insult hit Peter in his chest, but he took a deep breath for once, knowing no good end would come to further bickering. “It’s not about a job Rocket.”

“Then wha…Groot! Don’t touch that!” Peter turned to see Groot frozen before an opened gun of some sorts, the parts all taken out and broken.

“I am Groot!”

“Because it’s dangerous and you’ll die if you mess with it.” Groot frowned but made no further moves towards the gun. 

“I am Groot?” Rocket pocked his head out from the box, 

“Yes really!” Groot considered for a moment but decided to move on to try and wrap his vines around another shelf. 

“Keeping him busy I see,” Peter gestured to Groot by way of putting off the actual reason he came. Rocket just rolled his eyes and scurried toward another shelf, hopping down and then crawling to an adjacent bin of discarded weapons. “I shouldn’t have called you Sub…” he faltered, “…you know…” Rocket’s ears were flattened against his skull the next time he poked his head up. _Drax and Gamora were right._ Peter thought _,_ if this was the price he had to pay for what Groot had done for them then it was well worth it. As if on que little Groot screamed as there was a loud bang. 

“Groot!” In a flash both Peter and Rocket ran to him, the little crack in Rocket’s voice did not go unnoticed. Groot ran into Rocket’s arms, vines wrapping around his legs. 

“I am Groot!” Peter watched Rocket’s face spark in surprise. “I am Groot!” The flora colossus cried.

“Yeah that’s why you gotta be careful!” Rocket reprimanded, Peter watched the pair of them, suppressing a smirk, and then, failing to suppress it.

“And you say you’re not his dad,” he smirked. Rocket glared pointedly, baring his teeth.

“Shut up,” another whimper from Groot brought the creature’s attention back down. He picked Groot up, holding him to his chest by cupping his paw around Groot’s back with hand and holding him up with the other. Peter watched, remembering the warm close scent of his own mother when she would hold him during a nightmare or a storm. How she’d envelop him in safety and he’d melt against her, her calm steady heart-beat thrumming in his little ears. Peter sighed, watching as Rocket continued to speak with Groot. Uncharacteristically gentle and patient. For once. The words of Peter’s mother came echoing back to him, “sometimes the toughest and meanest people are the most scared and weak,” she’d tell him whenever Adam Rifus on another bully would be mean to him. As a kid her words always made him mad. Whatever personal problems you had, that was no excuse to be mean to others. But in time he’d seen she was right about these words too, just like everything else.

“Just don’t do it again okay?” Rocket conceited.

“I am Groot!” Groot retracted his vines and reached for the screwdriver Rocket had handed him.

“Go see if you can get that gun working over there,” he pointed to a small rifle at Peter’s feet. Just like that any confidence in Rocket’s parenting abilities wavered.

“Dude! Your letting him play with a gun?”

“Relax it’s a fake,” Rocket stood up, turning his back to go walk back to the box he was going through. Peter reached out an arm, catching himself before he dare touch the creature. 

“Rocket wait!” Against all odds, Rocket turned, eyes skeptical. This was it, Peter realized. Just suck it up and do it.

“I shouldn’t have called you that stupid string of cereal numbers,” he started, trying to speak as quickly as possible before Rocket could cut him off. “You were dealing with loosing Groot and trying to take care of this new Groot and I didn’t like how you were doing it.” 

“Tsch, fuck you Star…” 

“I was wrong Rocket.” Peter unfolded his arms, “When my mom died I….I didn’t handle it nearly as well as you have…and I don’t know what I’d do if I had to take care of a baby version of her .” Rocket’s brows furrowed in confusion, “whatever. The point is I shouldn’t have judged. I felt terrible for Groot…” he swallowed, “I didn’t want him to die….I guess I just keep thinking of this Groot as a baby version of the old Groot because it’s easier then dealing with the loss.” Rocket nodded so subtly Peter did not notice. “You’re a lot of things Rocket, but you aren’t an animal or a subject or a pet. I won’t do it again.” I should have rehearsed that more, Peter thought, rubbing the back of his head upon finishing.

Rocket’s eyes looked at Groot who was now beating the screw driver against the toy gun in a rage. 

“Groot picked it out,” Rocket stated after a time. “When we were escaping Halfworld there were five ships after us….I climbed out to the wing of the ship and managed to dislodge a Qutellian rocket launcher from the top of our ship, I fiddled with it and sent it flying. It took out all five ships.” Rocket refused to look at him, but didn’t follow Groot when he toddled away. “When Groot asked what he should call me, I had no idea. ‘How about Rocket?’ he asked me,” Peter watched a tiny grin from the side of Rocket’s mouth. “It sounded good to me. Anything was better than whatever they called me back there. I’d never had a name….I was never worth a name…until I met Groot and he saved me.” And he saved me, Rocket’s stone cold, cracked soul whispered to his frayed, exhausted mind.

“Well it suits you,” Peter spoke quickly, eager to seal the deal of apology. “We’ll help you too, taking care of Groot.” 

“Whatever,” Rocket shrugged, the spell broken. He pushed passed Peter, going after Groot. 

“By the way,” Peter called after him, “we have a new job.” This made Rocket stop, turning over his shoulder. “Do you know anything about annulax battery’s?” This made the enhanced mammal grin from ear to ear.

“Why do you want to know Star-Loser?” 

That night, as the Milano coasted ever closer to the Sovereign Groot collapsed sleepily into a ball of cords and wires Rocket had been messing with.

“Groot, axuan wrench, c’mon!” Rocket waited, “flark it Groot you know this one! It’s got the part with the…” he turned over his shoulder, lifting the protective helmet he’d designed and beheld Groot fast asleep. His tiny body curled on his side, holding the wrench in his hands.  He looked so peaceful, so serene, things Rocket never felt. I’m glad Groot does, he deserves it, Rocket thought. He remembered a time on Halfworld when Groot held his hand through the bars of his cage after an unending torturous day. In fits of pain Rocket clutched that hand, holding on to it like it was the only thing keeping him alive. He realized too late, that it actually was indeed the only thing keeping him alive. If only holding on to Groot had been enough to save him. Looking around, hearing only the engine Rocket set aside his tools and slowly picked Groot up, holding him gently in his hands. 

“I’m gonna try buddy. Don’t know what good it’ll do…but flark it Peter was right.” He sat himself down on the makeshift bed. “Gamora and Drax, they were right.” Slowly Rocket cradled the little plant close to his chest. Groot buddy, if your watching me now…I bed you’d be laughing your idiot head off, Rocket thought with a chuckle. Groot’s small vines curled around Rocket’s wrist gently. Rocket watched him sleep, not knowing what would come of tomorrow. In that moment it didn’t seem to matter. What was that song he’d heard Peter blasting a few days ago? It wasn’t half bad. Gently rocking Groot he curled his knees up, putting his friend close to his chest. He remembered the words of the song, but he’d half to change some of it to better fit.

Unconscious of anything but the two of them, Rocket slowly began to whisper sing.

“He’s got a smile it seems to me, reminds me of childhood memories where every day was as fresh as the bright blue sky.” Groot stirred nuzzling into Rocket’s palm. “Oh, oh, oh, sweet child of mine. Oh, oh, oh, sweet love, of mine, oh, oh, oh, sweet friend of mine.” Rocket watched while Groot gently slumbered and he smiled to himself. “he’s got eyes of the deepest green, flourishing in the rain, I’d hate to look in to those eyes and see and ounce of pain.” As if on cue, Groot’s large eyes opened a sliver, looking up at Rocket. The creature smiled, heart full of something comforting and warm. For a moment, he thought he could see the eyes of his old Groot looking back at him. This Groot was different, but the love he felt was the same.


End file.
